I don’t keep myself busy enough, I think. And that’s why I think. Over-think.

In between cramming useless dates relevant to an English poet named Lord Byron who went to war and later died of a fever (1824), and calculating how many trees Grades I to XII of some school planted, I do take a break. I look around the same room I’ve been looking at for over 8 years now (okay, not the same, my mum did renovate in 2011) and maybe think things I’ve thought often before and maybe realize the dullest of facts.

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