I want out I want out I want out.
I wasn’t smart enough for an academic career. I’m not committed enough for a teaching career. All I am is flaky, and I need out of here.
I have two observations to get through and a final presentation.
I want out.
I’m going to crash, I’m going to crash. I can feel it, like a hand thats stroking at the very back of my brain, I’m so prickling and so itching and it’s going like ice down through my spine and I’m not good enough for anything, I have to run and theres nothing anywhere.