There was a time when I was still attempting to violently kick and struggle my way up through the bottomless swamp of viscous melted tar that is third term. Now, however, I've accepted the fact that my maths portfolio, my musical investigation, chemistry in general, and too many other etceteras to count have locked their tiny powerful jaws around my ankles like a vicious herd of water-dwelling Jack Russells and are dragging me down, as I wait for splintered pieces of myself to bob up to the surface where the champagne of my creativity continues to float on top. Luckily, though the workload is crushing, there are usually still more reasons for me to stay barely intact than to fracture completely; looking back, they tend to be made of flour and yeast, in the form of
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