41.

by Jolyn Low

This evening I reached my car on autopilot mode and had a cold slice of pizza from the free one I managed to snag from the common room. I was hungry and incredibly drained for I had spent the previous two nights getting up at 4am for work. Up to today I still do not regret my work, and I find it incredibly rewarding. But I always wonder if there is a better alternative; a more carefree and yet beneficial position to have but I think that I am doing okay.

Someone asked me if I have cried over my studies before and I said that I hadn’t. Simply because I had entered this year mentally prepared for the jump from the first, and I had experienced the worst kind of helplessness and prevailed. This is not to say that I don’t experience any stress at all; that’s a lie. I still study and try but I do not beat myself up over things that I do not know, and neither do I panic at the thought of learning what appears to be an insurmountable amount of information. And hell, if a competitive streak keeps me in the game I’d play it to my best.

Instead, I think I cry over the more sentimental things. Beneath the usual coldness and apathy lie my sensitive and human bits. And I cry when I feel sad, when people cry over their losses and when I am tired.

I just wish to not feel tired all the time.

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