Things are getting worse, and I’m getting mad. I am physically and mentally crashed. I am writing these fragments of my life to make sure there is still a big picture, but I am just too small to understand it, now.

This terrible feeling can be tracked long way back. I seriously worried about my brain can support me finish my PhD. It is use to be a brilliant one, help me survived hundreds of silly exams, wrote me thousands of letters and articles for girls I had crash on. Most importantly, it did amused me through countless deadly dull moments of life. Well, I suddenly feel it is retiring. It seems that I can not read books while listening pops; it’s hard to closer to girls I like outside a dream scenario; unbelievably, I have to watch comedies keep the time going. What may drive me down to this condition?

Is it likely that because of less connection with the rest of the community? I really can count acquaintances around. Basically, two guys from office, one from Pakistan, and another from Iran. The foundation of our relationship is built on cheap jokes and unreal sex adventure. There is nothing worse than having conversations about sex with an old virgin. Unfortunately, we got two here, except a Pakistanian, who is a farther of two kids. The father guy usually wearing tight pans, sometimes, tight shorts. And he talks to me a lot so that I deeply regret to myself every time I have to look at him while he is lecturing me, as I worried that one day this man in tight pans will negatively influence my attitude about love and mirage.

Well, the Iranian guy is a speechless and active girl-hunter. He is short, but has strong and heavily haired arms. He speaks extremely slow in English as well as in Persia. He is a loosely disciplined Muslim, or an ordinary human leaving in a pork-free world. He had an invisible Greek girl friend who broke up with him after he was knocked down by a bus on his way to our little office. The reason why his girl friend left him, according to himself, is that more than one month disability of below part his body made his room too dry for the Greek girl to stay. I said I was sorry about his tragedy, and it’s really a sad story, although I always feel sad about him. The thing bothered me was I felt I wasted my pocket money on detective novels of Sherlock Holmes, I was supposed to notice these essential changes of a hunter when he getting rewarded from wild filed, or when he has been ironically hunted by his prey. Anyway, he continues to show off everyday enjoys cup of tea and lunch sandwich. He made elegant sandwich, I guess the taste should be as good as they look.