[Journaling](Day 17) Am I still drunk on the memory of us?

Alright, what in the goddamn giggly fuck.

I feel so close to Garfield in these moments.

I HATE Mondays with a burning passion.

Literally. That passion is currently aflame and constantly revived with more hatred.

And then some more.

MONDAY MORNING!

Exams! Exams! EXAMS! A shitty MCQ! I hate this! I hate it so much! I prolly bombed the subjects I bombed on the last 2 MCQs! Fuck me! I am mediocre!

Then: Did fuck all on the couch! Tried to be productive and work a bit, couldn't!

A small meeting with the staff regarding the organization of an upcoming communication event, where I was as useful as a towel outside on a rainy day.

Dare I add coming back to be a couch potato, playing Tetris, and overall failing to be of any utility to myself, before being kicked out from the couch by an older student, to end up eating a store-bought salad in a corner of the room while watching Oversimplified?

PART TWO!

The afternoon was painfully useless, I did fuck all, and I didn't follow the classes. I am on a downward spiraling path toward my inevitable demise. I literally spent about 2 hours straight this afternoon browsing /tttt/. Because why the fuck not. Sure, it doesn't help, but at this point. Just overall meh, right?

Forgot my sports bag at home. I had to sprint to get the bus and be there on time. Rangers/Combat boots are made for durability, not speed. My shins were complaining the entire duration of the bus ride.
Got up into my flat, changed my pants and shoes to a more boyish and boring pair of sneakers and pants, just to fly back down the stairs, catch the bus in extremis, sports bag in hand, to go to my lightsaber lesson.

It was terrible. I was tired, the warming up was long and exhausting, and I ended up fighting in not the right state of mind and overall physical well-being. I was a danger. I was literally dangerous to the people I fought and I'm still not over it. The only one I can hurt is myself. Not others.

My white shirt is stained with blood.

Tomorrow I start early. I am missing sleep tonight, and it's gonna be a tough day.

I really need sleep before I do something I'll regret, cut something and stain my bedsheets or whatnot.

Today brought me pain, both physical and mental. I hate myself.

It is angry and hungry that I end this post. I really won't have a good time tomorrow. There are strikes out there, too.

Good night, lone reader. Here's to the rest of a long and painful week.

P.S. Go and watch the dream bbq trailer.

And you don't seem to understand
A shame, you seemed an honest man
And all the fears you hold so dear
Will turn to whisper in your ear - Duvet, Bôa

Laporte, signing off. In the hope of better days. Cut, cut, cut.