I will never be happy again.


Blustering buffoon. I have blundered, bitched, and bemoaned. I

Can’t make myself work. I can’t create my projects or practice exams.

Dare I say, my dean’s list dreams are dead. Damnit. 

Exam season is evil. I envy the edenic bliss of Brown. I need this semester to end because

FUCK ALL THESE FUCKING FINALS. I want to set myself on fire because maybe then I’ll

Get granted an extension from the ‘godly grace’ of my professors. I 

Hate it here. Morningside Heights hurts me, harms my psyche.  

I cannot wait to escape it, to take an intermission for my intellectual health.

Just wait, next year things will be jovial. Just kidding—oh, what a joke. Who am I

Kidding? King’s college kills the kindness in my kindred soul. And

Latin Honors? Our policy is as logical as Lerner’s layout. Languishing, competitive, and

Mostly malicious. I think I made the wrong choice moving to Manhattan. My memories of happiness

No longer exist. It’s null. It’s all negative. Not a single nice thing.

Oh, oh Columbia! I can’t bear to open LionMail. This stress is oppressive.

Perhaps I could pass/fail? Nay! It’s past that period. Phuck. 

Quite a shame. I quit, really. I was meant to live a quiet, quixotic life. Instead, I am

Razed by the registrar and ready to resign. I do not roar, I just rest. I

Sleep until noon. My schedule is screwed. I pray to saints instead of studying.

That’s my only solution. Things are tumbling down. I am in turmoil. I can’t think.

Ultimately, I am caught in the undertow of this university. Ugh. It’s

Very vicious. I am a victim of my own vices. My highschool virtues are gone.

What a waste of my wonderful weighted GPA. Why me! Why! I barely recognize my face, it’s like a 

Xerox of a xerox of my exact features. So different, and somewhat xanthic. (That means

Yellowish). You know, I miss my youth of yesterday—because last year was not like this at all. Ugh.

Zeros are in my future, that I know. And, of course, zoom therapy sessions.

The Death of Countess Geschwitz (1918) via Artvee