I've just finished writing my marine science application essay, and it looks so... formulaic. Even my application letter to the dean doesn't have a heartbeat to it. I actually hesitated upon typing the word "passionate". Maybe I'll throw myself into the ocean and have myself eaten by hordes of pollutant-loving black sea urchins during my first week of graduate school.
Sometimes, I feel a borderline disgust when I look at the mirror. Then again, there's so much that light cannot penetrate, or glass couldn't reflect, and maybe it's the general collective that seems repulsive. My stomach looks like a Krabby Patty after a few bottles of beer and a regular meal. Deliciously unhealthy.
Maybe my central nervous system needs some Ray Ban aviators. It might go blind from all of these directionless irradiance. Maybe running around the academic oval with some nicotine patches on would be great, with the summer rain and all. I don't know.
If I have ten thousand pesos in my hands right now, I'd probably spend it on something unintelligible, like a sleeve tattoo, or a shelf of books, or a monster-large pizza with extra cheese. I hate the cycle of employed life. And staycations (except the part where I wake up before six am and everything is grey and still).
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