Luzzio

I’ve given her too much power. Number 10 has the ability to break or make my day, starve me of interaction, command my mood, or elate me with joy. A mere muse from her about stockings brings me to my knees. She has too much power, and will need to be disposed of. Soon.

—–

Reading week is approaching, a 7 day stint where no classes are held and every student is expected to return to their rooms and take the time off from lectures to focus on catching up with their studies. In practice, anyway, since I expect the most party-crazy of us to just party the week through, and the homeliest of us to just laze around at home.

Hopefully, I fall in neither. Sitting down in the library with Janet and Pearl yesterday, cracking our heads over a seminar question due the next day, we had come to the conclusion that after a total one month of classes, we really didn’t know much about anything. “Exam’s in three months.” Janet said morbidly.

So, one plans on catching the first train to London this Saturday, hermitting under the fine care of my uncle and aunt, not having to care about food preparation or laundry (much), cleanliness in the kitchen, and focus on actually doing some studying. Nothing seems to stick…

That’s the plan anyway.

I sat on the street pavement last Friday night, my withdrawn coat possibly stinking of alcohol, the cold wind stinging. My flatmate on the right was suffering headaches. I could still hear the noise from the club we just came out, and it didn’t seem like it was going to die down anytime soon after we’d left. There and then, I missed home. Hard to believe it’s been more than two months since I’ve been gone (although it seemed like a life time ago), and more than a month of living on my own, without really anyone close to me.

Still alive, by the way.