Les miserable

Squeezing myself into an arm-chair, i tenderly lean on the back of the chair to relax my stooped body a little, and contemplating the words that i have just memorized a few minutes ago. With a pair of inquisitive eyes attached firmly to the dictionaries, i rumble from pages to pages searching for the right words to stammer a punchline in my journal. My brain is pathologically deficient of inspiring ideas that could generate a list of leading questions that consistently direct me on a more promising path. “why is it so hard to me?” I ponder for a while, agitated, fretted and regretful for not being diligent for the half of the semesters. i am not putting myself in a prim and prepared status, and which should be compensated with a great loss of vocabularies and valuable knowledge. 


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