it is scary to get used to something.
after months of non-stop academic labour, it feels weird to finally be free from its yoke.
it feels as if I had let an object of love-hate relationship let go after years of toil.
now I'm sitting in my room, listening to good music and reading about the cat massacre in eighteenth century France.
it is not as wonderful as I hoped that it would be.
...
existentialist crisis looming o'er there.
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