Weintstein

As Teddy Geiger sings "These Walls"...

The only thing that's left for me to do now is to decide whether to continue doing this one or to just take a shower and toss myself to bed. So obviously, I'm free of any work to do tonight.

Supposedly, I should be stressed by now. As in the mega-hyper-stressed type that would give me the impression of a one-hundred-one-year-old aged woman with all the sagging skin, wispy white hairs, obstructed hearing and vision, diagnosis of that memory gap thing which always reminds me of this certain TV commercial that constantly says, "bawal ang pork... bawal ang beans... yadayadayada" as it shreds certain food images from this jerk's head, withdrawal of lip smacking only-for-non-diabetic-kids foods, and all that old momma stuff.

Basically, it's eew.

But no really, I should be strained by now. I've been finishing loads of work day after day and my eyes are becoming daily victims of extreme sleep deprivation which cause them to be all tedious and dull by next morning. Ah, the concealer era!

It's only tonight that I might get a good night sleep. But since it's now 67 seconds away before my good night sleeping time ticks on, I wouldn't have a nice eight-hour sleep yet again. Tsk. Tomorrow's gonna be real busy. And so with the next day. And the next. And the next. And the next.

Argh.

Okay.


I really can't take this anymore.

Truth is, I can't stand the scorching fact that I'm still stuck in school, that I'm still in my senior year, that I'm still in Economics and Physics, that I'm still stuck arriving home by 7 pm at the most and sleeping by 12am just to finish school works, that I'm still not that self-sufficient. Sure, I would love to have the stereotypes. But it ain't that easy, you dope. The realities circumscribing my life at the present are somewhat disappointing and off-putting which probably would clarify why life on my part is getting more and more uninteresting and... substandard.

Well babies... All I need to do is to graduate. That's it. Then I can already get away from this school with all these "plastic" kids from all over the place. I will be of fewer headaches from all their nasty nonsense rumors, and "pa-epalan" schemes. I won't have to fish out my Economics book every now and then to get ready for two friggin' hours of Sir Greggy's hideous graded recitation [right, justify my answer you're saying sir? Easy peasy. ]. I won't have to waste rolls and rolls of tissues just to wipe the blood coming from my nosey, if you still couldn't get it, dork, I'm talking about the ay-pakshet-dude-nosebleed! thing. Got it?! J-e-s-u-s!

Geez. Let me graduate! Please let me graduate! PLEASE just let me f-ing graduate,

:P