blablabla

I am sick of everything. Sick of puppy love and sunshine happiness. Sick of hate and anger. Sick of the view from my office. Sick of my computer screen and the words on it. Sick of my thesis, sick of art. Sick of the environment and the old ruined cathedral. Sick of the birds outside my window in the mornings. Sick of cleaning and doing dishes. Sick of myself and my moaning. Sick of this place and its inhabitants. Sick of my life and the way it is going. Sick of my bad choices as well as the good. Sick of knowing and not knowing. Sick of the undergrads and sick of feeling older. Sick of my haircut and colour. Sick of training without results. Sick of the cyst on my wrist, sick of being weak. Sick of disappointment and reflection. Sick of never ending soap operas taking place in my life and not on the screen. Sick of men, sick of women, sick to the stomach of romance. Sick of the news, particularly ill about the swine flue. Sick of pathetic sentences formed by a mentally ill equipped mind.