sucked into a whirlpool and drowned at the core of the world
24 x 7 = 168
- 73 (Work)
- 10 (Class M-F)
- 2.5 (Clas T/Th)
-8 (Commute)
-24 (Sunday [thank you jesus])
-12 (Homework)
-14 (attempts at showering/dressing myself/eating/crying/rock wall+mechanical bull+random inflatable obstacle courses+music @ random school carnival/torturous grace period between class and work)
SLEEP= 24.5...OVER 6 DAYS
Horn alarm clocks at red lights: 2
Parking lot lunch naps: 6
Consecutive days where constant yawns have replaced breathing: 3
Cups of coffee: 0
Headaches: 8412734058923463580768792506
I can't even get home right now because there is a PARDADE HIJACKING MY ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD AND CELEBRATING MY MENTAL AND PHYSICAL DETERIORATION (and roses). Maybe I can goad one of these sailors into putting me in a sleeper hold if I ask him how much he likes swabbing poop decks. Next time there is a cancer run or shamrock walk or muscular dsytrophy potato sack race I am going to spend all morning lobbing water balloons off my balcony at people in the road and cackling like a madman. Whose streets!?
I feel like there's a very real possibility that when I finally actually go to bed my body will take revenge and when I wake up 1,000 years will have passed and there will be space-hipsters outside my window with vintage hover bikes. Until then I'll just bask in my delirium, I guess.
- 73 (Work)
- 10 (Class M-F)
- 2.5 (Clas T/Th)
-8 (Commute)
-24 (Sunday [thank you jesus])
-12 (Homework)
-14 (attempts at showering/dressing myself/eating/crying/rock wall+mechanical bull+random inflatable obstacle courses+music @ random school carnival/torturous grace period between class and work)
SLEEP= 24.5...OVER 6 DAYS
Horn alarm clocks at red lights: 2
Parking lot lunch naps: 6
Consecutive days where constant yawns have replaced breathing: 3
Cups of coffee: 0
Headaches: 8412734058923463580768792506
I can't even get home right now because there is a PARDADE HIJACKING MY ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD AND CELEBRATING MY MENTAL AND PHYSICAL DETERIORATION (and roses). Maybe I can goad one of these sailors into putting me in a sleeper hold if I ask him how much he likes swabbing poop decks. Next time there is a cancer run or shamrock walk or muscular dsytrophy potato sack race I am going to spend all morning lobbing water balloons off my balcony at people in the road and cackling like a madman. Whose streets!?
I feel like there's a very real possibility that when I finally actually go to bed my body will take revenge and when I wake up 1,000 years will have passed and there will be space-hipsters outside my window with vintage hover bikes. Until then I'll just bask in my delirium, I guess.