These few days I couldn't get myself to sleep till after 3am for these four or five days now, even though I'm already in bed at 12. I've always wanted to study math but math is so....mind draining.
Oh, and I just repacked all the junk on my shelves and my mom wanted to throw everything away but I didn't want to. I know it makes my room look like some abandoned dump but all my compositions I wrote when I was in primary school, all the poems, all the random things I scribbled on paper.... It isn't right to throw away the remaining pieces of your childhood. Besides, I don't think it possible for one to be able to slip into the same state of consciousness that is identical to the one when one was writing that essay. Understand?
I'll type out the essays which I wrote in secondary or primary school soon. In case the hard copy actually gets lost in the future.
Anyway, it was lucky my parents did not allow me to go to India. I would have gone to Taj Mahal definitely. You know what happened.
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
Is the next way to draw new mischief on
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mock'ry makes.
The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief,
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
