In a phrase to cut these lips

Shakespeare, scurvy, and everything in between.

I’ve lived enough semesters to know that these nights staying up late revisiting a slice of my youth are not going to change a thing about the state of my academic unproductivity. Nostalgia is a dangerous drug, especially when there is everything to miss about everything gone by, and nothing to love about this moment.

(Remember where you came from.) To get through tonight.

  1. spokesuchscurvy posted this