Weak

Burnt. Scorched. Punctured. Wasted. Crumbled. Weakened.

And that's about as far as I can think right now. Quite a disastrous Sunday Soccer kick-about on a personal level. Haven't felt that weak for a long time. Perhaps I'm sick. Having a mysterious cough.

2 weeks have past by, and the slacking regime will have to stop, before I end up poor, thin and malfunctioning. This week shall be the start of a focused and determined life that would preferably be lived to the fullest. Even the more or less confirmed failure of my maths paper will do nothing to dampen this gung-ho spirit.

Now all i need to do is to sleep and be well rested for the impeding journey, then satisfy my craving for stringray, and start thinking about how not to slack.