OK so a solid eight hours and six cups of chai later, I am still studying medieval French-cross my heart and hope to die, eight straight hours- and haven't even gotten to my neurobiology stuff yet, so I naturally want to either take a cheese grater to my forehead or else stagger to my bed and crash for the day... but the fun part of it was I got to
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Seeing that which no one else does, silent.
The joys of student life
At some sacrifice.
(I didn't mean for that to be a poem, but somehow it came out like that, and I felt I should let it stay that way, if that what it really wants.)
I both love and fear the middle of the night. It's so imaginitive, both good and bad. It's weird setting my own hours again. It basically means I don't sleep, or never enough.
Good luck with insane homework. (=
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