I know I promised not to freak out too much here, about revision or life in general, over the next few weeks, but it seems as though I frequently gloss over or ignore the less positive parts about being a student; I pretend they haven’t happened or I don’t write about them, and it doesn’t feel right sometimes, that sort of lying-by-omission. Oxford is wonderful and rewarding and it has probably saved my life, but it is also hard and exhausting, and if that hasn’t come through in the past few years’ worth of posts, it ought to come through, just a little bit, now. Here’s the truth of what’s happening now: I’m tired of this.
I’m tired of the weather. I’m tired of the chilly winds, the mild drizzle, above all the ceaseless greyness of the sky. I’m tired of not seeing the sun all day, of being woken only by the lightening of grey outside my window, of going through twelve hours that are like a prolonged dusk before the encroachment, in the evening, of darkness, that quality of light at six or seven o’clock in the afternoon that makes you feel the rest of the evening will be hopeless and makes you want to go to sleep immediately, without any dinner. I’m tired of trying to revise all day and not being able to do seven or eight solid hours and feeling as though I’m not doing enough because I so quickly reach the point where I can’t do anymore, can’t focus hard enough, where I’m simply forced to take a break. I’m tired of trying to watch what I eat and failing because I don’t want salads or sensible yogurts when it’s only ten or fifteen degrees above freezing and raining every day; I want sausages and potatoes and sticky toffee pudding instead, but they fill me with guilt and, because I’m a diabetic, that food makes it harder for me to concentrate and work well anyway. I’m tired of wanting to go outside every day but finding, when I get out, that it’s utterly unrewarding, because of the raw or stinging cold, a stiff breeze, dampness hanging uncharitably in the air. Above all, I am so bloody tired of winter.
I want last year’s spring back again. I want sunshine to be hot and golden on my back. I want the fields dense with tall green grass and dotted with sweet flowers. I want the blackthorn winter of white blossoms scattered so thickly upon hedges that it looks like snow. I want the delirious blue of the sky. I want the wink and glare of the sun setting on a clear day and lighting up the back garden. I want to be able to sit outside again with a cider or a G&T and read in the sun loungers. I want to wear dresses without tights. I want to go all day without feeling the need to consume pasta or bread or starch of any kind. I want to feel better.
Above all, I really want Finals to be over.
They haven’t even started.