breaking point?


I know I am capable of more. I did it once, I can do it again.


What is this weariness? I am a student of Science. Science does not require you to feel; it requires only an analytical mind and a vast pool of knowledge. Emotion is worthless.


But I live. I hunger. My energy has a limit. Limit here is defined within a certain period of time; as there is no end to time, there are no limits. But I have a deadline.


Yet all I see around me is death. The dead rise every morning and make their way to school; or some even spend the day in their own graves. Then they toil ceaselessly, mindless servants of some greater controlling power, absorbing facts into decaying gray matter which disintegrates rapidly. They do not stop for anything else; not till the sun goes down do they return to their graves.


We live. And therefore, we are the living dead. To learn, one's heart must be genuinely concerned and interested in the subject matter; exams are the surest way to kill this.


Maximum efficiency. That is my keyword. And I must put everything but the task out of my mind. I do not merely stop thinking about it; I am not able to think. Everything else has never existed.


And so, here I am, deciding: do I discard the last spark of the flame of life, or keep it, somewhere, so that it may grow again? It's not like I have a choice on it, sometimes I don't even sense its existence.


But it may not matter. For after the task is complete, the world as I know it will be melted down, and remade in inconceivable ways which I cannot imagine.