I feel as if I could cry at any moment. Sitting here in this bright haven of a library, where I would normally take comfort in this simple and academic realm, I can feel my eyes tear, haunted by unseen grief.
I'm drowning, my legs kicking for solid ground, but encountering only water. Water that teases in its sensuality and its insubstantiality; frothing around my legs, babbling nonchalantly as I drown.
I'm attacked on all sides. Sinister battlions draw closer, all in league with each others, against me. Their mocking faces, brandishing rifles and rapiers, their uniformed regalia all flashing demonically as they enclose me, their kill, their hunted, in the twilight before the lawless dark.
All this melodramatic internal muttering, all this phantasmagoria I experience in the sterile but harmless glare of the library, surrounded by other studying compatriots on a calm Sunday afternoon. There is no reason for me to feel this way. My friends, my marks, my health: all impeccable. And yet, and yet. Can someone answer me this: WHY?
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