I have a headache and the only song out of the meagre 408 on this computer that I want to listen to is Get Gone by Fiona Apple.

I’m grumpy and tired. I feel suffocated. This is the last time I’ll be going ‘back to school’. And yet, it’s also just one of many to come.

But it won’t be if I don’t find out what god-damn degree I’m going to do. I look on ucas.ac.uk whenever I can muster up the courage. Each time I come back feeling more frustrated and confused. With myself. With universities. With the world. With whatever.

I’m irrated and irritable. I have a cup of nettle tea next to me because it’s the only thing that stops my head from exploding.

The sky is grey. I click on a song in windows media player which I haven’t rated. It sucks. I fall back on In The Waiting Line by Zero 7 and hope that it’ll somehow soothe my sore ego. I know it won’t.

I want 925.788497 British Pounds so I can buy Ali Brown’s online success blueprint. A part of me laughs at how stupid I’m being by thinking that buying one of her products is ever going to make me any returns.

And a part of me clings to the hope that I might one day become something.

I’m tired and I want to go to bed. I don’t nap. It’s 5pm. I wonder why I bother anymore. I wonder if it would’ve been better if I had never been born. If neither myself or my two brothers had. That way my parents could have gotten a divorce instead of staying together and having children.

I think about speaking to the teacher at school that got me elected as a college president. I want to resign. I don’t know why I even signed up. My stomach burns with hatred towards my school yet I applied for the position as a lapdog.

A part of me wants to run away. A part of me wants to leave school so I can get away from the mind-destroying falsification that it is.

There’s no moral. No story. No joke and no philosophical by-line.

I’m tired of having to live this life but I can’t see any other option. Well, there is one.

But I swear to whatever possible god is out there, if you allow me freedom from this 2.3 children-esque existence, I’ll try not to do anything stupid.