Caffeine makes my brain go round.

The only thing that keeps me awake prior to the National Final Examination days is a simple magical substance called Caffeine. Two shots everyday, double if needed. That way I'm able to regain control over the droopiness that intensifies every single lecture second and turn them into long, exhausting, nerves-numbing hours. Without caffeine, I'm like a walking dead who'd rather sleep through every moment of educational purposes than dealing with them with wide open eyes.

Precisely two hours after a cup of coffee is digested, I feel myself rejuvenated. I can feel drop of sweet liquidated Caffeine oozing through my blood like some Godly invented drugs. I feel them knocking over every cell in my body, slapping and tapping and raping them until they scream with delight and unrestrained excitement.

My hypersensitivity therefore is also summoned. I can focus like a hawk, aware of every single strand of information that perches in my brain. I sit on the front row of the class, digesting mathematical equations and grammatical propositions and chemical formulas as if they are pretty unique snowflakes that fall and melt and soundlessly seep into the ground.

The one thing that grows less as I devoted myself more into the stupefying ways of Caffeine is positive thoughts. Caffeine over-excites the pattern of my brain, making my mind paces back and forth like a confused little pig in a closed box. It's so hard to keep a positive thinking at bay that way, along with the constant furious drumming of the heart as if wanting to get out of its ribcage. The restless heart makes the organs of the body tired, and positive thoughts don't tend to come upon a depleted, over-occupied brain.

18 is such an ugly number.

Being 18 is like standing transfixed in an intersection in which there's only one road to take, only you're still not sure where each of them leads and what are the consequences of your actions. The catch is, there's no going back. The lazy days are gone, and now you're at the peak of having to have to choose.

Moreover, the line that separates adulthood and childhood have never been this hazy before. You keep convincing yourselves that right as the clock turns 12, you ARE an adult. But deep down you know you can't turn from a childish, carefree 17 year old into a mature, responsible 18 year old overnight.

When you turn 18, people drastically turn over their eyes against you. You no longer have The Unforgivably Cute Recklessness that people under 18 are born with. When you're 17 and do something wrong, they'd easily say "It's okay, you'll learn from your mistakes." But when you're 18 and do something wrong, they'd give you a massive hard time by stating that you've never learned from your mistakes, and they'd blame it all on you for wasting all your youth in vain.

They say the upside about turning 18 is that you're legal. The question is, legal for what?? Legal for getting in some club, buying some booze, getting fucked up? Well guess what, unless you live in some tight-ass country in the 19th century or something, right now everybody can do all those things above without having to be 18. Rules are overrated, and so is "legality".

Eight-teen, if reversed, is also a hideous number in its numeral row of -teen (13-19). 81 is probably the oldest you can get before you die. 17, if reversed, is 71, and by that age most people would probably be at their top of fondness for you as a grandma/pa. But then when you turn 81, they just get bored of taking care of you and their visits are getting more seldom and practically you'll rot yourself in your deathbed. As for 19 (91), I doubt you'd still be alive by then, so that does not really count. Whatever.

Last but not least, for some people 18 could be a wonderful number, especially since it stands for 1'm 8lessed (to have lived until this moment). Nevertheless it's ugly for me since it also represents 1inglorious 8itch.

I'm turning into an 1nglorious 8itch in about 3 hours and 19 minutes. Happy Fucking Birthday.