A Bundle Of Contradictions

Here I am, staring at the computer screen, completely run out of ideas.

That's what happens to you when you end up giving three solo PowerPoint presentations, a four-hour long midterm exam and a ton of other extracurricular activities. 
Might I add, you've done none of these activities to the best of your abilities and you've only done it for the sake of passing. 
Anyhow. 
So, as I have no grand ideas to amuse you, allow me to tell you about my majestically amazing self in a list of 25 points (Because hey, it's close to Christmas). 
Here goes nothing: 
A List Of My Favourite Things/Situations/People
1. As strange as it may sound, I love the smell of wood-smoke. I don't know why, but it really seems so crisp and invokes really nostalgic memories. 
2. It may seem really contrary to my overall character, but I really enjoy singing. I know I have a very high-pitched (sometimes really a virile mixture of nasal and shrill when I'm angry) voice. Yet, I enjoy singing m…

Describe each day of the week as if it were a person. Give each one a name, age and job.

46-year-old Monica Frost was a career woman. She was constantly driven by the need to excel in her job. Her job had made her sacrifice her family – she had put her mother in an old-age home and divorced her husband around the same time.

Monica was so obsessed with her job as a marketing analyst that she had no regret about throwing away her family. 

Monica’s only friends were her laptop and her office chair. No one invited her to their house parties. She had never been inside a club – even in her teens. 

Monica could not think of a day where she had relaxed and let go. She hardly remembered the day when she’d last left her high-rise apartment and gone on a vacation. She couldn’t think of a day when she’d had a complete meal, not a burger from a fast-food joint near her apartment. She hardly remembered the day when she’d had a full night’s sleep.

But then again, Monica was too busy to think of such thin…

To say that June 2015 was one of the saddest months of my life would be the understatement of this millennium. 
Every morning, waking up was sheer torture. Whenever my eyes flew open, I used to have this strong urge to stay there, in my bed forever. I used to stare at the ceiling and I used to desperately wish to stay at home. 
But, since I had my German class to go to, I had to literally force myself to get up, dress up and show up. 
My German class was all the more torturous. I never talked to anybody, except to ask about what's going on. I used to constantly get zoned out, stare into the empty space and just think: I'm in so much deep trouble. 
I felt like I'd failed everybody, especially myself. 
I used to write in my diaries, constantly write about how much I'd drawn into a shell, constantly write about how upset I was with the way things turned out and all I wanted to do was things to turn out well. 
But, as the days passed, I realized that I hated being sad all…