21st Century Schizoid Fox

Today I woke up with an impression of sheer terror and paranoia, that I have no purpose in my life. I waste my time doing absolutely nothing and hating myself for it. Because I had no idea how to help myself I finally unpacked my two bags. And, there goes the worst part, it made me feel even more shitty. My wardrobe looks like a total mess and it's killing me from the inside. One day I'll have to look at those stacks of clothes and decide what stays and what should be thrown away.
The only positive aspect of today is that no evil, fungal matter attacked my bags.

This paranoid state may be caused my one, particular thing. My dissertation. It's finished but on the other hand isn't. The deed will be done when I'll finally print it and send it to Warwick. But I'm still waiting for my supervisor to reply to me. I'll wait till Friday. Than it's printing time. Today I really hate it, so I shouldn't look at it.

Shit, this blog looks like a very dark, depressed, schizophrenic stream of thoughts fueled mostly by randomness, coffee, oversized ambition and unfulfilled dreams. With the emphasis on those dreams. Currently I'm a paralyzed by every single bit of my life, that heads towards inevitable end of something. I remember very well the end of high-school. I almost lost my sanity freaking out what next. I ended up studying biotechnology so everything went surprisingly well. When finishing my undergraduate course I was also terrified, but I was already doing something for getting a place at Warwick. And now? Now I'm nothing, doing nothing with no plans, because I feel like an emotional wreck. So I'm terribly sorry, dear readers. This may be like that until the end of September. If I survive today's massive attack of depression.