Test-taking got postponed again. Biology teachers love giving their students a head-spin. I haven^t loaded up my phone credits yet, just because I do not feel the need to. My blood calls for caffeine, not a textmate.
I^m thinking if I should start buying time to sleep. Ignoring the ironic presupposition that I will not be able to achieve rest even through hours of lying in bed; I^ll bargain all my jadedness for that.
The other day, one of my classmates got an unexpected answer for his, well, unexpected question. I tell you, life has the most bizarre quirks a mentally-retarded person could even envision in his mind. You get damaged at the safest place of your system, of your very -- maybe uncontrolled -- ground.
Unusual.
I lately acknowledged the reason for my photo fetish -- although not in an erotic way. I have this fixation on stillness and surrealism, things I rarely see (save for Deviant Art^s) emblazoned truthfully in faulty lenses of normal cameras owned by, yet again, normal people.
I am tired.
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