- wake up: exhausted
- 12 am: exhausted
- 3 pm: fucking exhausted
- 5 pm: really fucking exhausted
- 7 pm: about to pass out
- bed time: the energy of 5 million condensed suns
- me: the older i get, the more i understand Squidward's anger.
I hate that feeling when you can’t put a name to what you’re feeling, but you know it’s anything except happiness.
i am beginning to get genuinely concerned about my lack of motivation to do anything ever.
