When my days are up and I stand before my maker for judgement,  I’m proud to have had your influence in my life.
I never had the chance to thank you for shaping me into who I am today. After all that you did for me, I so badly wanted to make you proud.
Alas, that day will never come.

Thank you, for everything. The body may decay, but memories and thoughts are everlasting. And therein you shall live.

RIP.

The very reality that next Monday’s lecture will be my very last(please let it be so) as a uni student is sinking in. My final paper follows up in a week’s time, and then the electives whizz by.

Four years of pharmacy.
Countless hours of excruciating mugging.
Just for this moment.

I should be more psyched.

The whirr of the AC from the unit next door is starting to get on my nerves. Whirr. Silence.
Whirr.
Silence.
You get the idea.
Shutting the window is out of the question since I don’t own a fan (yes, I am that awesome) & I somehow find the cacophony of drunks somewhat calming. It’s just hit me how odd that is, but anyways.

I’m fairly certain that my mum and sister are going to find the first few nights to be fairly interesting, going by what we witness and overhear every weekend. On a side note, I’m on the lookout BB messenger buddies so if you own one, drop me a message on Facebook. Mucho gracias.

Yes, you really do need to see Marg Simpson in November’s edition of Playboy. Marg Simpson. Playboy centrefold.
Somehow it doesn’t quite rhyme right.
Meh.