I can’t wait for this semester to end. Seriously, I am agitated merely by the thought of having to spend two more weeks in school, and the worst ones of the semester at that. I keep waiting for the days to just skid by in the periphery, like how we always imagine time passing; I wish it could go by without me having to look at it. The wait is boring, especially if there’s nothing to do. But there are things to be done, and a whole lot of them, too. I can’t even think of starting on them, though. I guess it’s the usual shit, you know; the procrastination, the overestimation of cramming abilities, the lack of ideas in general, and the now totally burnt-out self-starter that had been thin from the get-go. And I don’t even know what I’m looking forward to exactly. The idea of repose? The things I’ve been planning to do but can’t during school days, with the pretense of prioritizing academics when in truth studying is only ever done in the couple days before any deadline? The family that I miss when I’m not here, but loathe whenever it bursts into flames randomly and regenerates after, as if nothing happened, like a fucking ragged phoenix? The boredom that consumes me each and every single time I’ve had to stay unmoving in a place for longer than a few weeks? I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what I’m waiting for. What I do know, though, is that I am not getting anything done soon enough, and I will be paying for this once again with tears and soul-rending feelings of inadequacy as an intellectual.