Tomorrow is my last exam and I feel like for a while I have known nothing else and I am actually a bit nervous that they are ending. This is the first time I set any sort of goal and the first time I'm worried about a result. And I don't want to be told not to worry, or forget about them when they're over. I want to hope every day, anxiously, that I've done as I was hoping I would. I don't understand the appeal behind avoiding things.
About not thinking about how you did your exam, forgetting about the first person who broke your heart, about shielding it from being broken, about not allowing yourself to be blindly driven and inevitably devastated and disappointed towards an unreachable goal. 
I'm not saying my high levels of self consummation are healthy or freeing, it's actually pretty exhausting. I just don't understand how to be another way and it only makes me angry when someone tells me - don't think about it.  
I wish I could go back to being constantly bewildered instead of seemingly clever. 
It is prouder to know, but luckier not to, so you can find out for the first time. 

I remember my first year of college when I absolutely hated it. I was angry and alone and all of eighteen and wanted to shoot everyone through the head. The world didn't get me and I didn't know what I was doing there. So I made up stories of cute boys who paid for my Iced Tea at McDonalds and the D school canteen, as I rummaged in my bag and couldn't find change. It was an excellent story, not too unbelievable either. 
But eventually thanks to my prolific friends who hifived me through the pages in my course books, I learnt to love where I was at, and like I have said a million times on this blog, there is no high like a good class. 

Brodsky, Ma man .  

I wish you were here, dear, I wish you were here.
I wish you sat on the sofa
and I sat near.
the handkerchief could be yours,
the tear could be mine, chin-bound.
Though it could be, of course,
the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish we were in my car,
and you'd shift the gear.
we'd find ourselves elsewhere,
on an unknown shore.
Or else we'd repair
To where we've been before.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish I knew no astronomy 
when stars appear,
when the moon skims the water
that sighs and shifts in its slumber.
I wish it were still a quarter
to dial your number.

I wish you were here, dear,
in this hemisphere,
as I sit on the porch
sipping a beer.
It's evening, the sun is setting;
boys shout and gulls are crying.
What's the point of forgetting
If it's followed by dying? 

On a less brooding, more normal note, I AM GOING TO GET SHITFACED IN THE FACE TOMORROW!!!And my friends and I will sit on a round table and scream sentences followed by 'bitchessssss'.! 
YAY.