I think every atom that excites panic off my body has deteriorated somewhere in the corners of Zimbabwe and left me with absolutely no sense of trepidation whatsoever. The thing is, I have three deadlines on Tuesday and I haven’t even done anygoddamnsyllabiceffort yet but I’m still tumbling pretty and exhausting my mind into overanalyzing everything that is happening with the stern exception of the aforementioned deadlines. Tomorrow’s a red letter and as much as it needs to spell rest to people, it translates itself to a billboard of blinking neon lights shoving the word horror down my throat. I have to shell out a news from any government agency with actualities and I have the slightest idea how to breed a minute and a half of broadcast report with these guys offices closed and as much as I want to track their asses down tomorrow to be able to make it to the before lunch due the next day, I really have not devised an effective stratagem yet to lure them into my lecherous trap otherwise known as Humiliation 101: The Interview.
My world (aka school as my social life eloped with my panic atoms maybe about twelve boring weeks ago) is supposedly be crumbling into obscure, Lilliputian fragments but my system screams no lo comprendo. I’m still biting my fingernails writing this over a two-page script due the same day, over everything academic-related actually and I can’t stress this enough but someone should push my panic button three miles deep or the next time you’ll hear from me I already preached to the congregation of college drop-outs living off whatever space left of their friend’s bathroom floor.