five hundred billion, two hundred and sixty million, eight hundred and forty thousand seven hundred and eight

I feel like running around my estate screaming in the most unglamorous way ever, falling to the ground and bashing a big damn hole in it until I reach the center of the earth where perhaps I'll melt away with all the A level worries and anxieties and the shitty fact that I can't stuff history down my bloody too-small throat or even to just do any other subject requires more willpower than ever to move a bloody fucking retarded mountain which is weighed down by a damn blue whale and five hundred billion, two hundred and sixty million, eight hundred and forty thousand seven hundred and eight elephants riding on top of it which are stomping all over my notes and shitting all over Cambridge so the mountain better fucking be in England so the whole Cambridge grounds can be filled with shit because thats what A levels fills your life with and drives you up the wall until you find there's no more wall left and you're just running into that huge mountain of shit once again and I know this sentence is too fucking long but I really don't give a shit now because all I wanna do is scream until my eardrums burst and thats just so fucking adolescent and childish and I'm way over that stage at eight-fucking-teen years old-soon-to-be but just bear with me because I'm not going to survive this fucking situation and I know forty years down the road I'll be reading this post again and laughing at myself.


GAAAWD, this is pissing me off.