Midterm season is upon us, and the stress and fatigue is making some of us do very interesting things. Here is staff writer, Elizabeth Burton’s, story of survival.

This isn’t what I meant when I said we needed to end academic elitism.

Two weeks ago, I met up with a friend to study for our upcoming American Politics midterm. We went to Diana, got some of that A+ late night pizza, and started studying. It was your normal study session, two parts eating and procrastinating, one part actually studying.

At some point, I looked up and noticed two girls sitting at a nearby table. At first they were sitting on each other, and when I looked back up they were making out. I was truly happy for these two and their late-night PDA. In their oversized sweatshirts and Birkenstocks, they could not have been emitting more Big Barnard Energy if they’d tried.

Anyway, I stopped paying attention to them and tried to go back to working. After another three minutes of really focusing I glanced back up. My dear friends were still making out, but this time a third party was involved- a lighter. Like, they were literally sitting there, playing with a lighter, and making out.

At this point, I was not quite sure how to feel. I wanted to be happy for these bold, beautiful lovers. But, fire kind of doesn’t belong indoors. I tried to focus on my work, but the flames in my peripheral were a little distracting.

Thankfully, I made it out alive and only slightly traumatized. Of course, I see the same girls the very next night. This time, they were making out outside the Barnard gates (without the fire this time). I guess they didn’t need literal fire to keep each other warm.

It’s been a few weeks, and I have not seen my favorite arsonist lovers. Diana is still standing, which is reassuring, but I still have so many questions. Who are they? Where are they? Didn’t anyone ever tell them not to play with fire? I just don’t understand.

Fearing for my life via Google Images