Save me.

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Countdown to my liberation: EIGHT WEEKS & FOUR DAYS

It was the 1st day of my PTS. It was mundane. I could die. NO no, i could just sleep. I have a table, a phone, a computer a not-so-comfortable-bloody-noisy chair. I have carpeted flooring which makes me wanna just remove my shoes and walk around barefooted. I wanna roll out of my office clothes and jump around in my yoga pants. 8am to 5:30pm. My lock up time. I have lunch breaks from 1pm to 2pm. A tad of solace i could look forward to each day. I wish for the non-existence of civilisation. I have too many wishes and no genie to look up to. I'm screwed.


This messes up my tuition and tv-time, BIGTIME. No more Jericho Rosales.


*cries*

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