I should be happy. I'm done with half my crappy college life. Why crappy? Coz I know it could've been so much better. Maybe, at the end of the day... this is exactly what I deserve. Who knows?

There's too much noise outside. The sheer buzz in the loudspeakers trying to play dance songs at a fuckall bass and treble adjustment is plain irritating. Especially, when you could do nothing about it. And ironically, I don't feel like celebrating. Reason: Unknown.

Yeah. There have been things running in my head that I'd rather not spill 'em to anyone. Yes, those very ones that I keep mentioning about all the time and never tell anyone about. As if its cool to stay mysterious.

I've this real short piece of story running in my head. Maybe it's high time I spilled it out. But I can't put it here. It's sorta special. Like the 7 chapters of my book I wrote, and deleted them in a single go. I don't even believe in the storyline I've stuck to for the past year and half. I guess it's the longest I did.

4:07 AM. I have a paper at 10. I guess I should set the alarm at 6:30. Sleep.

6:30 AM. Buzz-Buzz-Buzz.

Switch it off. Open your notes. Take a pen in your hand. Open the presentation slides. Start reading. Start playing with the pen, coz you've no idea what you should write about. Close the slides, take the book-- at least that would have something to write about. Take the book, the notes, and lie down. Its more comfortable that way. Ugh. You're sleepy. Okay, sleep for half an hour.

9:17 AM. Yeah. Time flies.

Upset. Scared. Lonely. Wasted.

Stare at your notes. The words are written in not so awkward handwriting of yours. But the font size is sorta big. You've no fuckin' clue why you wrote that. You've no fuckin' clue when you wrote that. And you wonder.

Happy college life, fellas. You all suck, without exception.

I've no fuckin' clue why I wrote that. But I don't feel like erasing it now. Peace.