Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind; nothing was gained under the sun.
Tomorrow is the last day of school. This year, it has further significance than being the end of classes. This year, it is the end of an epoch: high school.
It would be far too much work to construct sentences and then paragraphs with what I want to say.
Sleeping late. Every time I manage to get to bed a bit earlier, the next night I would just sleep later again, thinking, "I've slept this late before." Obviously, this has to stop.