April 24th, 8pm
Talk of vicious cycles. I get drunk and don't notice half of what's going on around here, then I sober up, get used to it all and then want to drink again. This place is nuts.
Part of me just wants to go home. Get myself a nice bottle of wine, have a sit down and forget the world bloody matters. History in the making, history as we watch it. History blindly repeating itself. I don't want anything to do with this, I study history, I'm not a part of it. I might have principles, but I'm a principled coward.
Talking of which. Things much closer to home, things I can at least act upon. I'm a drunk and a liar. And she knows. Yet she still talks to me. I was such a bastard, such a horrible friend and she...I don't understand her one bit. I wish I did, I really do.
I deserve to only have the company of my wine, really. I'll have to be more honest with her, though. She deserves it. I'll just have to be careful what we talk about. I can't tell her now much...no.
Hello there, how are you? Because I'm sober, my head hurts, which could be the fault of all those essays I just marked and I..I miss France. So I wanted to tell you that I'm about to crack open the wine and if I lie to you whilst I'm drunk, I hearby give you permission to hit me in the face and never talk to me again.
I also wanted to say that you're a damn good friend and I appreciate everything you do for me, no matter how little I deserve it. You don't know how much that means to me.
Question, people. Specifically, people of the non-OWL or NEWT taking variety. Although they can waffle on and answer too. Name me one thing you want to study next week. ANYTHING. Moustaches in history, anything. I am officially bored of what I originally planned for this year, not to mention I've pretty much finished it anyway. So go on, be creative.
I await you with bated breath, my feet up on the desk and smoking my lungs away. The longer you take to pick something, the more damaged my lungs get, so hop to it, people.