ATAullah's thingy

I was in the exam hall staring at white walls thinking about what I was gonna do when I age and the limit of children I am gonna reproduce and thinking of the acts I am gonna do when I am gonna go to Delhi , then it hit me that somebody is calling me , ‘Ata !’ ‘Ata!’ look at what I drew! Look at what I drew! I had no other option but to say it was good, I did not want to hurt him.If he had even competed with a small kid , the smaller one would beat him clean . The glee and passion in is eyes to draw would all go down the drain when it gets on paper. I pity him.

Oh! Wondering why the hell is someone thinking about population control and family planning? Wondering why the hell is someone asking how well his drawing looks like ? Why the hell is someone throwing paper balls with the help of a primitive guller (a small stick in Y shape with rubber tied all around it and loosened enough to fit something in it and then hit with the object put inside)? And the bigger question is why the hell is anybody doing everything except write in an exam hall??? Didn’t I tell you earlier? Oh! Welcome to St.Mary’s college of science and management.

The drug of copying has played with me since the beginning. It did stuff with me forcing me to hide my phone under my sleeves and look into Google for the answers and writing , which I did not like a bit. Everybody in the hall was having a ball and I had been stricken with the copying bug n I had been filling sheets after sheets.

Now that I have copied and copied, I feel ashamed of myself, tempting me to even play a pretend literal dumb game. I did not feel like talking to anyone for the whole day, just been to myself, eating and listening to alternative rock was the thing of the day and sleeping topped the list. My examination life is ruined because of the drug and now it says, “Hah! Look what I did to you, better luck next time and TRUST ME (translate it in polish for better understanding)”

P.S- if u still cannot figure out what the drug said in polish , then get a taste of the equation below

trust me = fuck you