When Will The Horror End?

How many Calculus tests can one guy take in such a short space of time? Does the horror ever stop? As I’m writing this, I’ve got about less than 16 hours until my Calculus test. For those of you who paid attention last time round, I didn’t fair too well in my last Calculus test. Hopefully this one WOULD pay off since techically I’d have learnt this chapter for this test 3 times over in different courses thoughout my educational existance. I sincerely hope I don’t get a brain fright at that time. Now that would be bad. I do hate being in a room and doing absolutely nothing but starring at a paper you could do 24 hours beforehand.

I guess I can’t really complain. I’m taking a crash 7 week course, compared to other people who took a 14 week course. We’re studying at twice the speed of the normal intake and so the tests come twice as fast. Surprisingly, the lecturers say we’re actually coping BETTER than the 14 week course students, which definitely IS surprising since our batch technically is supposed to consist of the lazy, slow ones (Yes, me included. I flunked A-Levels Maths, that’s why I’m taking this course). But probably since we’re different anyway…we can handle it well. As they say…what’s so good about normal anyway…:)

On another topic, I found this while looking through my old poems I wrote when I was in my Teen depression years. I’m not like that anymore, but I can’t help but remember those times I fought with my problems and myself.

Breakdown

Years an enemy I’ve struggled against,
The demons inside I know no defense
The path of chaos I cannot sway,
For order it brings the light of each day.
The price of which comes at a cost,
My soul and sanity are at the edge of being lost.
Now I fear that time has come,
Anger, hatred, vengeance and then some.
I fear and forgive the people who I may hurt,
The truth is their lives mean as much to me as dirt.
Those affected need not weep or cry,
For in time, they will choose to live or die.

For those of you who know me now, interesting to see how far times have changed. But the poem doesn’t end there. It’s actually a 3-parter. I’ll post them later anyway. For now, dream of the good old days of torment. How we were so young then.

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