the problem is...

a year ago

we proudly call ourselves: the nation of procrastination
my roomie and i will sing along to linkin park on sunday mornings jumping on our beds before rolling down the effing stairs rolling down to canteen and coop tons of leftovers into our lungs and then lay down at the wrong end of the bed listening to ourselves breathing

at the evenings, all we have time to think of is how to sneak out after 12 at the back of the tennis courts maybe grab a little shisha session at the stairs or jump into a red cab taking us to the other side of the city where we paahtay and dance until the dawn dawns upon us

or i will be having icecream with phil and talk randomly about steve jobs and fall asleep on the roof thinking how good it will be never to have to wake up to this fucking world again and then found ourselves wearing pajamas to the nearest mcdonalds and saying fuck you westernization as we gulp down fries

we will mourn and weep and mourn and lie until the weekend comes again so we can steal cans of soda from the canteen party and secretly wish that the smoke machine will be out of order again so the firefighters can come evacuate us from hell.

we will laugh like there is no tomorrow and smoke til our lungs turn black

and now treat alcohol like an antidote. sing sing sing like elvis and dance like usher

please. skieving history's class to get front row coldplay tix is so right. so damn right.

and wear frog costumes to exams or protest in central or joining gay parades

or maybe just stick to throwing ourselves into the pool at the height of the summer heat after the last day of class

plesh. this is life.

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