bullet through my head written: 6:20 p.m. on Wednesday, Sept. 17, 2003
Sitting in LT5 struggling to generate some warmth into your freezing body with a pen in your hand, a migraine in your head, nonsensical mathematical equations and sums staring back at you, all the while thinking of what a waste of time it is, is no fun at all.
I am so damn tired that I could die.
And it's not just physically. I'm tired, sick and tired, of everything.