Thursday, February 17, 1983

Clean break

I didn’t go to bed at all last night. I was supposed to be reading the final one hundred and fifty or so pages of Walden, but predictably I failed in my task. By five or six in the morning it had turned into a pretty depressing situation.

Lindsey was very pissed off too. Her work is going badly; she's done hardly anything and missed this morning's tutorial, her third in succession for that course. She’s also missed a couple for her other and finds herself deeper and deeper in shit. She sprawled across the bed, frustrated and fed up, saying she wanted to go to Cambridge to see a friend, to escape, and eventually decided to go up to London to visit relatives before going to bed.

Meanwhile, I sank into all the same old feelings of boredom at this usual routine. It’s incredible—here I am, doing what, six months ago. I wanted to do more than anything else, something I'd looked forward to immensely, but now I find myself making all the same mistakes and blunders in the second term I made in the first.

So much for my new start, my clean break. I’m lucky to have this opportunity and it's one not many get, but here I am, wallowing and complaining, feeling claustrophobic and frustrated, trapped and desperately wanting a way out. I can’t help it.

Dull silence.

I managed to stay up long enough for my tutorial with Miriam, which went OK. I handed in my essay and we were promptly told that she considers a ten sider too short and would like to see us attempt 3000-4000-word essays!

The rest of the day has been pretty forgettable.

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