Vivid dreams about Claire. I woke up and realised that the cold grey light around me was the real world, not the warm glowing one I had just been in.
The house this morning was in absolute chaos. Seven people slept here last night: me, Pete, Mo, Barry, John, Ade and Stu. Another week beckons, taken up with the routine superficialities of student existence; booze, socialising, and no work. Another week gone in my life, no nearer working out the things I profess to seek an answer to. Another week of blindness, of my malleable existence.
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