Last two and a half weeks until school ends. I still cannot decide whether it is too hot to have my blanket over me or too cold to have it kicked off the bed. I do not think my brain comprehends moderation. It has been raining a lot lately. The sort where butterflies would have to find shelter and wait until the storm dies down. I wish I understood rest in the same way they do. I get so disoriented at the idea of rest. It feels to me like a polite word for resignation. At least it will feel that way to me until I have stopped pursuing something greater than myself. Another week of uni has gone by. Today is Sunday, and I have nothing urgent to do. It is quiet. My test results came out, and somehow, I have managed to land on my feet again. No, seriously, I am coming back for the top marks I lost last semester. So maybe I was being a little dramatic. Still, I deserve some credit. I did not abandon ship the second things fell apart. My mind is never quiet. In fact, it seems determined to do the exact opposite. When I tell it to go quiet, it repeats the instruction back - and then gives me a detailed list of breakfast foods I never asked for. Naturally, the question is: should I rest? Yes. Obviously yes. Especially because I am ill and rest is the only correct answer. But logic and I are not getting along at the moment. I cannot rest. Not with only two weeks to go. The best I can do is go back to sleeping early and maybe use my mornings to entertain my hobbies. I would rest, but I do not want to fall into the pipeline of losing all my focus. It is very important, and I know that. My credentials could speak for themselves. I mean, I make better use of my holidays than most. Put me next to Phineas, Ferb, or even Dr. Doofenshmirtz, and I would hold my own. If only weekends worked the same way. But unlike high school, my life now runs from Monday to Sunday. Everything always comes back to Monday. And I truly, sincerely dislike Mondays. They are the very reason my lazy Sundays took their early retirement. I have been thinking of getting a guinea pig. I feel like a pet would cure all worries. But I go out of the country a lot. What I am trying to say is, to anyone receiving this newsletter, if I were to leave the country for two weeks at a time, would anybody be willing to babysit Little Lou? See, I’ve already named it. It is basically a done deal. Another Sunday, but today feels like a countdown to my execution. I wish you all luck in this upcoming finals.