My Best-2

My Best.

One shot.

I used to see them everyday, and today I captured them.

The reason. One thing.

I hate university. I basically hate going to university. Getting up in the morning, getting ready (I don't normally do this) and then combing hair, that really suck, and then even when I'm not ready my father starts calling, no, mostly he just start giving the horn in a rhythm that sounds not a bit cool. And I wear socks in the car. I put comb in my bag. And nail cutter, it will always stays there anyway. I have put it in my bag some days ago for emergency. One might feel an urge to cut his nails in a class. Who knows. Half-boiled egg. The word I've just highlighted has become more or less an abuse that I use just for my university for the time being. I might start calling SOME people with the same HBE name soon. It's such a nice word. Not a bit insulting :) and at the same time the speaker, that is me, will feel immensely glad and relieved just to have her say.
The story with half-boiled eggs is really petty but it's interesting. One day I stayed at home although I was supposed to be in university at that time. So, happy as I was just with that refreshing idea of NO UNI in my head, I slept more than usual and when I woke up I tuned into the morning show, breakfast show with Khalid. It's not my favorite, it's the only show I listen to on radio and I LOVE it. I have never told Khalid though. I'm planning to. Anyways. I was talking about eggs. Ah, got carried away. Please, continue reading. So, I boiled an egg and made myself a cup of tea. I'm good at making tea. *Proud* The egg was half-boiled and I was at the point of throwing it away but somehow I managed to eat it. Except the yolk, that yellow thing. Yuck. And it occurred to me that it's just the same. Half-boiled egg and going to uni. Both are equally disgusting. 

I've to go to university tomorrow, again. Ah, you half-boiled egg!           

An excerpt from The Brothers Karamazov

...you'll always remain an open wound in my conscience...
"Love is gone, Mitya," she began again, "but what is gone is so dear to me that it hurts. I want you to know it always...