I seem to write a lot of these.

It’s nigh on midnight, the night before the psych assignment is due.

After working on it for… around twelve hours, including research, within the past day and a half, I’ve reached that stage where it could have "the elephant began to walk up walls. ‘Hail Trenton, god of goat cheese!’ it bellowed" written on it and I would seriously hand it in.

There’s not caring, and then there’s me at this present moment.

Sometimes you just feel stupid enough to read bash.org. You know what I mean?

Heck, it’s not even that late. What am I complaining about? Ah well.

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