Should the passing of time be celebrated? Or feared? Each day that goes by is a day closer to summer. Freedom. Sandy beaches, good company, the WORLD FUCKIN' CUP!! alcohol, ciggs, and probably my last true carefree, commitmentless holiday. On the other hand, like the proverbial calm before the storm, lying in wait, is the Hell standing infront of my Heaven, reminding me that above all else, i'm still merely a mortal. Okay...i'm sidetracking abit. What i mean is..the dreaded EXAMS. Every student knows it, dreads it, loathes it. And if you don't, you are a fucking freak of nature.
While it is tempting to follow the Fight Club notion that you are really only truly free once you've hit bottom, I throughly lack the charisma..not to mention an alter ego cool enough to organise a renegade movement capable of blowing up a city. And sinceI intend to have some semblence of a future, the stressing over exams, or rather stressing over how much i know which has relevence to my exams are a yearly ritual. My nights are filled with the what if's...and if only's. "If only i turned up for any of my 25 math lectures", "what if i stayed home and finished my coursework instead of partying all night getting pissed and handing it in with fresh vomit".
Too little to late i suppose. And all this thinking has made me hungry..I suppose in the end life shouldn't be taken too seriously. Afterall, none of us are getting out of it alive.
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