I can't believe I can't make time for my blogging. My curriculum has me surrounded, and I can't break through. No one said anything about university-level education being this energy-draining. I have an exam tomorrow, and I'm here instead. I'm done with seventy percent of what is supposed to be asked tomorrow. The remaining thirty, well, I can't muster up the energy of enduring.
I have plenty, however, to efficiently type a blog post and listen to music—sarcasm implied.

Typing fast is an art, too. I can't believe I'm typing at this new-found speed of light! It's like I've been programmed with what to write, no thought or other cognitive ability is being employed. Well, that would be overstating things. But it's quite thrilling, this rapid movement of my fingers; fascinating.

Our semester is almost over. I've been completing a lot of online courses about journalism, and am even considering a career in the field. Then my mind is pulled back by the gravity that is my current degree program. I am reminded of what truly needs to be done and where my enthusiasm is actually required: computer science and programming.

Whether I'm abandoning the degree program, has almost been decided. I just need the time of a hundred lifetimes to finalize my decision. Sarcasm not at all implied.

While everybody else from my class is busy studying HTML, CSS, and JQuery, I'm here, typing away. Like I said, I'm done with seventy percent of the expected exam. JQuery is the only demon I haven't conquered yet.

An aunt of mine visited us today. Looking at her face reminded me of—well—it reminded me of death. Her weak complexion, wrinkled face, and...sad eyes were a horrible sight. I felt sorry for her, immediately. I suddenly established an already established horror: all of us are destined to die.

As she limped her way to the drawing-room, I began to imagine the ten thousand things that can, might, and will happen to me before I finally leave this planet. Well, technically, you never leave the planet; you just get buried. That's going to happen soon. I need to do whatever I want to before I stop breathing. This is what was revolving violently inside my head, throughout the visit.

Baking, writing, and everything else that I feel like I don't have the time to mention here but want to do, I'm coming for you.

Typing fast, I've come to the conclusion that life is what we make of it. These are the wise words of my high-school English teacher. I wonder how she is now. What I've been doing so far, has had absolutely no change on my damn life. I still burst into a fit of embarrassing, uncontrollable tears when I can't resist the things I resist anymore, I still can't control the personal content of my blog posts, and can't control almost everything that happens to me. I am still hated, laughed at. And I still give a damn about it. A significantly large damn. Sarcasm implied.

I still wonder how all the greats did it. Helen Keller. J.K. Rowling. And all the rest I admire. How did they do it? How? Why can't I?

I read on one of my much-frequented blogs, about how we make unwise decisions in haste, considering nothing but the options that are visible to us only in that moment of conflicting emotions and pessimism. We grab hold of whatever seems possible, and then never let go. It is here that we fall. And we don't even know that we are, until we hit the ground.

By then, it's too late.

Am I falling, too? And don't know it?

Aren't we all?

Whatever happens, I won't stop writing. We all love what we love. I do, too. I've penned yet another poem. It's ending is still left, I'll get it done once I've less things to worry about. Another amazing publisher has refused to entertain me. He can...whatever. I'll find another. Like I said in an old post of mine: You just can't succeed here unless you have access to power, fame, and money. Whatever happens, I won't stop writing.

Typing fast, I think I can accomplish all that I want to. Typing fast, I think I've realized that I've yet again opened up to the prospect of hope. Typing fast, I think I've realized that I've used the words 'typing' and 'fast' a little bit more than necessary.

Sarcasm implied.