Now that’s comedy. My school has these mental wellness days every few weeks or so. Basically just a holiday. Didn’t even realize it until today. Guess where I was? In the lab working. This robot refuses to work on every level. And it’s killing me. Even if my PCB hadn’t burned out I probably still wouldn’t have made it. I’ve spent pretty much every day working on that fucking machine. An undergrad who is doing a project sponsored by our lab asked me if I ever leave that place. That’s how bad it is. So while I saw trucks full of frat guys hauling cases of beer or grill pits around or families strolling the campus seeing the sights, I was working. And working. And working. I know it’s my own damn fault. I know this. My incompetence and laziness and lack of foresight has finally done me in. I know I won’t make the deadline, but now I’m questioning if I will even have a working robot for the end of my term. God. I keep listing over and over in my head ways to kill myself. There are box cutters in the lab’s toolbox. I can try to sneak into my old apartment building so I can dry dive off the top. I can buy a bunch of bleach and drain-o and make myself a smoothie. I can jump in front of the commuter rail. But I can’t get a damn gun. I’m dying, but not fast enough. Like a broken puppet still attached to strings. Here’s a song I like.