Fail

I seem defeated. It's not as if I've lost anything or won anything. It's simply that I didn't try, and therefore I have faced defeat in the face of my own awful ambition. It's a rather horrible aspect of life, like facing your past self over and over again until the future finally rears its ugly head and drives all beasts of the past and present far away because it's so horribly new and fresh. I do find time considerably slower, even if I'm wasting it away. How very dumb of me to be doing that when there are so many better things to do. Perhaps I should try writing, even if I've let go of just about every thread that I've had in the past month in either panic or utter sloth. Both seem so wrong.

Mother's Day didn't go so well. Apparently my Chinese typing was not appreciated, as my mother would rather see me write in Chinese. It's one of those things that has been stapling pains into the back of my head right now, even if the bulletin board in that area's quite outdated and useless already. There seems to be nothing that I can do about it. I would only look more pathetic if I sent my mother an apology about the gift.