How Doomed is Doomed?

Being doomed is horrible. You think you're doomed? Well, have a second thought, dearies. Because I have this little question for you: How doomed is doomed?

Of course. Cheers for the end of horrible examinations. But there is really nothing to be happy about when you fucking left fucking three pages of fucking Maths paper II fucking blank. Oh, that is just brilliant, isn't it? Of complete brilliance only Memphis' marvelous brain can think of? Indeed. And this total brilliance is leading me to the brink, the dangerous cliff, of failing my Maths exam. Just wonderful. I'm dancing on pointe on the cliff with a canyon beneath.

Believe me, I am getting so pathetic that my current favourite book is a fucking dictionary. Oxford dictionary, in fact. How wonderful is that?

I have plans for a trip to KL. Or at least, you can say, indeed it is so, I had plans for a trip to KL. I mean, gosh! Men in Tutus don't just come from New York to perform in KLPAC everyday! It is a golden opportunity! My friends and I are waiting for such luck for millions of years. Damn the parents, damn the location of KLPAC itself for causing the chance to just slip through our fingers. Now we have to continue getting stuck in a fucking place called Kota Bharu for the sake of a lovable PMR exam.

And god damn it. Who starts studying the day after the exams are done? Thanks to a persistent nincompoop of a mother, I am fucking forced to study on a fucking Friday in fucking preparations for a fucking PMR. Again. God almighty have mercy upon my whimful soul.

Enough of the rambling. Apologizes for the long-abandoned, not updated blog - which I am steered to abandon due to exams. I'm back. Memphis is back. A very livid Memphis is back. C'mon folks, cheer me up.

Tell me now, how doomed, is doomed?