It's on days like this, when I sit in my study playing records as loudly as I can tolerate with the windows open so as to inflict my musical tastes on passing pedestrians and housemates in an effort to stave off loneliness, that I realise my entire year has blended into a unidentifiable muddy-coloured blur, like what would happen when you were a child and you mixed a variety of different poster paints together (oh come on, I know you did it as well)
My university experience this year has been 90 percent of the time giant swathes of inactivity and a low throbbing depression, permeated only by infrequent slithers of blind panic when faced with actual work which is far too difficult or badly taught to even fathom and occasionally bothering to get up out of bed to check whether my Amazon order had arrived with that days post. It has been unforgivably dull and solitary. I have seen each of my own personal aspirations in what I would become after leaving the safe bosom of my home-town slowly crumble into a dirge. There is nothing to aspire to here, given I may have made the gruesome error of choosing an awfully taught course at an awfully unfriendly university in a awfully awful city. Overall what I have learnt at university is that one should not rush so quickly into higher education when one is not sure whether it is even the right or enjoyable thing to do, not to mix your drinks, plus investing in first-class postage for Amazon orders might make more sense in future.