Dear diary,
Once upon a time in the land of Higher Education, there lived a weary student named __. (Okay, fine, it’s me, but let’s keep the drama alive!)
This semester was not just bad; it was a full-on comedy of errors. My lecture schedule felt like it was written by a sadistic scriptwriter who hated happy endings. Picture this: being stuck at university until 5:00 PM. But the real tragedy? My best friend and I couldn’t sync our schedules to suffer through it together. We’re like two sad, lonely souls in the same hellhole, but on different floors. The courses? Don’t even get me started—semantics and pragmatics? I’d rather watch paint dry. My final’s in two days, and while I’ve technically studied, my coursework marks are embarrassing, and at this point, I’m too burnt out to care. I was aiming for an A-, but now I’m praying for a B+ .Honestly, if I don’t pass, I’m just going to pretend I’m sick for the rest of my life and avoid eye contact with my parents. I can’t show up to their house with anything less than a B+, or they’ll probably start questioning all my life choices.
As for breaks? Yeah, I don’t really take those. My idea of a break is listening to music while staring at my textbooks and wondering where it all went wrong. It's less of a "relaxing" break and more of a "self-imposed torture" kind of vibe.
But wait! Here comes the twist! I decided to embark on a health journey. I waved goodbye to delivery food and channeled my inner chef. I whipped up a culinary masterpiece of rice, peas, and carrots with a side of chicken breast. I mean, I could practically hear Gordon Ramsay screaming in approval—or maybe that was just my microwave.
And the grand finale of this disaster? I bought face cream for hyperpigmentation because I thought, "Why not show up to my parents looking like a walking Instagram filter?"
Well, Spoiler alert: one use and my face turned into a glowing tomato. Seriously, I looked like I’d just returned from an all-inclusive beach vacation without sunscreen. Thank God I stopped that madness; my skin returned to normal after a week. Who knew beauty could be so hazardous?
And so, dear diary, that's my life right now. A series of questionable decisions, bad classes, and some red-faced trauma. But hey, at least I’m still alive, and I haven’t yet spontaneously combusted.