Tomorrow. Tomorrow. I Hate You. Tomorrow. You’re Only A Daaaaaaaaay Aaaaaawaaaaaay.

For those who haven’t already figured out what imma talk about in this pathetic post, i’d like to inform you that i’m 5 hours away from the first slip of paper in my detrimental national certificate <sanaweyya 3amma> that’s gonna undoubtedly determine a lot of shit in my near and not so near future. I’m not helping aren’t i? Well, that’s not what I wanna write about. I have to get up in a bit anyway to try and save what can be saved.

What’s interesting is that, while i’m perfectly calm <and scared shitless> it seems that my body is reacting the same way you’d expect it to under a terrorist raid. I visited the bathroom for exactly 39 times in the past 2 days. I didn’t pick up the phone twice because i thought the music was just in my head. Refer to yesterday’s episode of my singing along to music that i thought were coming through the walls but apparently, according to my mom and dad, weren’t really there. I have successfully ingested 2 slices of pizza, a cookie and enormous amounts of coffee since last Wednesday. Yesterday I had enough caffeine in me to support Cambodia. Fired up with 3 mugs of coffee, a mug of tea, a litre of coke and two red bulls and Arabic still managed to knock me out. I’m also a walking chimney. And while everybody is crying and wailing and moaning their fucking throat out, I, on the other hand, am laughing. I’m laughing hysterically out of cue. I formulated a theory that laughing and crying are both two sides of the same coin, but it varies according to the person really. I happen to be a hopeless midget with a tendency to laugh off masayeb, which is cool, i guess, until you end up having a laughing fit that leaves you with three phone calls, being medicated into sleep and losing 59% of your hydration. The object of one of the phone calls stopped IM’ing. Yeh. Apparently it was that bad. The common opening line was: ‘Are you drunk?’

I keep thinking what’s gonna happen tomorrow is that while everybody in the uncharted shithole we’ll be sitting our exam at is wailing and passing out, i’ll be laughing as if my life depended on it. Various scenarios have been introduced to complete the picture, including my getting kicked out for possible cheating since that’s the only reason they could conjure up in their melancholic heads as to why i’m finding the slip of doom lying on my wrecked desk any funny.