Angry Rant With A Lot Of The Word "Fuck" So If You Don't Want To Read The Word "Fuck" Don't Read This Post. Or This Heading. Too Late For That. Well, Now That You've Read The Word "Fuck" So Many Times Already, You May As Well Just Read The Post.

Got my English final in two days. I'm supposed to study just two books and some grammar. Would have been REALLY easy if only I didn't get overcome by extreme anger every time I open my book because learning Louis Pasteur's date of birth and death seems so futile. FSc. is actually is a piece of cake. But only if you don't get so fucking pissed at the futility of everything you have to learn. IT'S FUCKING ENGLISH LANGUAGE FOR FUCK'S SAKE not your fucking history lesson.

I've noticed how, if I wake up on a bright and cheery morning, and think about how I have to study all the fuck that I am supposed to, I am angry for the rest of the day. I just can't bring myself to study that fuck. It's so fucking annoying.

I know it's a lot of "fuck" for one post about studies but seriously, nothing less than "fuck" justifies the amount of anger I feel right now. To be trapped under the burden of having to "learn" is the worst thing to happen to anyone. To not let your mind wander, to not allow yourself to explore the extent of your talents if you have any, to not let your creative skills come into action fucking kills you. Fucking education. Fuck Louis Pasteur. I'm going to write poems in ENGLISH rather than spend my time hating myself for not being able to learn fuck. What is even more annoying than having to learn fuck is knowing that the fuck is really easy but you JUST CAN'T bring your brain to learn that fuck so it's your brain's fault. It's definitely your fault because there are those who can learn these things (no strings attached) and then there is you who probably is just one of those bitchy students who like to bitch about studies being annoying when in "real life" they are quite helpful.

So fucking helpful. For all you ignorant bastards out there who are obviously living a very miserable, unsuccessful life not knowing when Louis Pasteur was born - it was in 1822. There. Now your lives can be happy and successful.