As I sit here, head heavy with fatigue, eyes drooping and stinging with the heinousosity of study, I wonder to myself what horrendous thing could have happened in my lecturers' lives to make them the way they are today. What terrible childhood trauma or loss of love could have made them this way.
I mean, who dedicates themselves to a life of academia? I cannot imagine a young 17 year old boy, let's call him Patwood, fresh out of John Forrest or whatever such high school he went to, picking his first preference, "BSc, MICROBIOLOGY," or something equally incorrigible.
How can he wake up each day with a smile or at least without hanging himself using his necktie, stained with the remnants of last night's lonely dinner?
J
About Me
- Junaberry
- I'm a student from Australia who used to have a lot of time on her hands but doesn't have that much anymore. Now she has other stuff on her hands.
2 comments:
What the shit, I read this like three times and still don't understand...
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lmao u crack me up herren.
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