Yours Diabolically

Now presenting the much anticipated entry of...*drum roll please* Oinkity a.k.a Psycho Beaver, who is more the nutcase next door rather than the girl next door *bows to deafening applause*. Just now my mind is functioning with limited energy. I have just survived a barbaric manifestation of human rights abuse- the Pre-boards. The road was long and often punctuated with potholes of despondency, boulders of sleep deprivation and an ominous feeling of being suicidal. I had consumed the last remnants of coffee available at home before promptly devouring two boxes of cookies. There were lows and more lows.To fully fathom the psychological trauma I have endured, a certain incident can aid you.
It was the night before the moribund history exam. Throughout the day, I had prayed something would run over me and end my misery. Unfortunately the universe wasn't feeling particularly generous and I was compelled to finish 300+ pages of Ceausescu, Naoroji and the damned judicial system.I had slept for three hours. After waking up at four in the morning, in all my disoriented glory,I started furiously poring over my chemistry book for fifteen minutes. After realizing what I was doing, I immediately began a rather painful rendition of that Simpson's classic "Spider pig". In fact for the next ten minutes I was more engrossed in the song than I had ever been with Glasnost or Perestroika. I then proceeded to hit my head persistently against the wall effectively destroying every remaining functional brain cell. Yet despite all that, I survived... So, where's my Nobel?
I have been though hell and even worse, through the inner torture instruments of the Indian Educational System. Now like a battle worn and bruised warrior I try to piece together the minuscule pile of powder, shattered shards and viscous slime that was once my brain. I know confront a mildly subdued monster known as the boards. But that's a far 42 days away. Until then i can continue reading the three different books that have craved my attention. I now have a date with Nobakov, Lepierre and Ellroy and I must confess that they will be remotely more piquant than you, the reader, who possibly has dictionary.com in the neighbouring tab. Farewell, unenlightened reader, my printer's committing suicide and I must rescue it before it destroys my English assignment in the process.