Why, does it seem so long ago yet as if no time has passed. New shirts, untainted yet by the labors of art prac. Hair tied-up, face bare of make-up. Sweat, from the heat.
Now, shirts stained in vain, a constant headache upon head in the form of a bun, coldness immobilizing limbs. Apathy. Disappointment. Regret.
Such a difference 18 months makes.
I am tired, and have English first up in the morning. If I don't sleep now, then I'll sleep in. Bad habit. Waste of time.
