Procrastination is an art; I'm the Donatello of
procrastination. Two weeks and here I am with a presentation, assignment,
studying and class preparation all due tomorrow. Oh, and here I am blogging
again after two months to spice up the challenge. If I didn't know myself too
well, I would have blamed the circumstances for the never-ending-messed-up mood
swings and the agonizing mental and emotional suffering. Anyhow, who am I to
complain?
Rifling through the old papers with the intention of plagiarizing
anything in the way, I found it. The paper in your handwriting that I have
always avoided in fear of consuming one of the very few remains of my good
memories. Here it is in my hands again; addressed to me; To Ingy. Only God
knows how much I hate it when people misspell my name, but you’re the
exception. I put the paper back again; I don’t want to deplete the memories of
it. All what you've taught me is carved deep in my being. My existence to you
is null, but this is how I want it to be; for I will be owing each and every
success in my life to your existence. I owe you a debt of a thousand light
years of gratitude for all what you've done to me.
Time to stop reminiscing. I don’t deserve that pleasure of
your memory.
