people, we have now reached half of our targetted issues. there are still three more to go, but my hopes are high.

i can't believe how this whole journalism thing have changed my life.. well, some parts of it.
i don't expect anyone to read this because i know a boring life of a struggling writer is enough to make insomniacs sleep like a log, but i think voicing out some of my thought and feelings would justify us being somewhat miserable kids.

for the passed three weeks i've been working my ass off. my heart is singing to the tune of 'tired, tired, dead, dead, KILL, KILL'. it lulls me to sleep every freaking night. my brain is currently applying for leave of absence, whereas it tells me that i've been abusing it too much.

my skinny frame struggles to hold all of my guts, my moral fiber, inside me. my confidence level drowned in the lake of criticism. to dry up is a good idea, for i will soon need my confidence when i enter the world of maiac deans and bloodsucking dean's-lister. i would soon enter the gates of college.

haaaayy (which is the filipino counterpart of a sigh), i wish for that sweet moment, that day where our very last issue would be released. for now, i must go on and sing my song...

'tired, tired, dead, dead, KILL, KILL...'