What feels like writing.

This semester sucks.

My schedule sucks. My final grades suck.

And my whole entirety is a clutter of failures.

Wonderful.

So, it's like this:

I just couldn't care less if I fail ALL of my subjects,

but I couldn't help feeling ashamed (that the right word? I don't think so).

Not that my PARENTS could actually do something about my crummy brain or my weird study habits.

Especially my dad, I always felt like I was pushed to take this course.

Yeah, hell, I could BLAME them.

Even though it's what HE's enthusiastic about, it's still MY OWN DECISION.

Like, I LOVE being a masochist.

So there, I 'fessed up.

Like hell would I choose this if I wasn't THAT prepared for, say, THESE:

(1) Staying up late doing schoolworks.

(2) Staying up late satisfying my vices.

(3) Staying up late thinking about exams.

(4) Staying up late repeating the same mantra: This sucks.

(5) Staying up late just for the heck of it.

What. The. Fucking. Hell.