So unwillingly am I.

Easter holidays, an exam about to come, and the most useless unwillingness and disgust for studying and anything else (just like it wasn't enough). Always the exact right moment, I'd say. And I do, goddamn.
So nothing better than staying here blethering unuseful Anglo-saxon boring noises. Bleah.

[Five minute pause.]

Nevertheless, still no cooler ideas. Oh, such-a-bore, and what a lexical poverty! Oh, my own invented vocabulary!
I'd so much like to be able to speak every language just as I speak mine. But that's not the engeeners' thing, you know.
You technicolor world, you multifaced existence: forgive the desperate immorality of my psychical disorders, and simply show me how easy it all could be. But maybe it couldn't.
Mmm, my delirium seems someway more dignified if painted this way. Well, I could even pass off as normal. Oh, God save us...
And now? Twenty past ten p.m., a certain amount of meat showing not the slightest intention of leaving my stomach, the desire of running fading away... and nothing more worth living...

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