days and days.

I have probably gotten a cumulative 18 hours of sleep this week. No life left in me. Am also terribly sick and it won't go away. I got a whopping 2 hours of sleep last night, proceeded to drink a big effing cup of coffee at 9, went to class for 2 hours, presented my thesis process in one of my former professor's seminars, took my car into the shop, and tried to get work done before falling asleep at 5.

On Monday, I am leaving for Wisconsin to present my thesis and eat pizza in Chicago. And today may be Friday, but I feel a little dead and I just want to be back to myself again. I hate hate hate that things start to work out for me just as I am about to get the hell out of this place. It makes me feel defeated and like fate and romance and any kind of direction can never exist in my life. Even if they exist for short periods, they are mere stops on the way to further confusion. Oh well.