My tiredness is a wall of emotion, building brick by brick until there's no light behind it. Day by day I fill my mind with a dictionary of numbers and a spectrum of showered thoughts, only to forget it all by tea time. My peers are databases; hoarding information like I hoard photographs, staying in while I go out, remaining lonely as I fall in love… But what is life without love? A pile of papers cast off with A grades and a sore head, that's what… Instead of essays, I remember memories; the way the sun touches my skin or the way my love caresses my cheeks, as if to provoke my blushing.

Unfortunately, life is shallow without paper grades; nothing more than a door in the face or a branding of stupidity. One is not intelligent unless one has passed examinations in our corrupt culture. One does not have a true state of being or their own skin. We are born into the land of globalisation; where all humans are just a combination of elements rather than individuals. The rat race begins in education, continues at employment and ends in stone monuments or modest wooden crosses.

We humans fight every day to earn our petty currency; the apparent means of exchange on our planet. Where does it all stop? Not death… The father hands his fortune to his melon-headed son, only for it to be played on a poker table or to display his wealth to those struggling. The son laughs in the face of those without his material possessions, but is he truly happy?

Money; the façade of happiness and the root of all betrayal. Grades; the passport to employment but never a reflection of one's capabilities. Memories; fragments never to be replicated, fragments worth more than material possessions. One cannot buy happy memories.