It’s been a long three or so weeks and I’ve been swamped with near-constant reading and writing (midterms are awful). I barely have time to eat, sleep, clean, or do laundry — basically, I’ve been thoroughly exhausted. I should be working on a paper for a class right now, but instead I’m writing to you, reader, about what I did tonight.
Most of today was spent in the library, then at a friend’s place where I watched the beginning of the Oscars. I came home after that, threw my coat and bag onto a chair, and promptly collapsed onto my bed. I ran my fingers through my hair, against my scalp, thinking of how long it’s been since someone had touched me. I thought of how much I missed another person’s warmth and weight against my body. I thought of waking up in another person’s arms. I thought of the 4 pages of essay and 150+ pages of reading I have to do tonight.