Sunday 15 January, 2012

I don’t really want to be here. I want to be at home, where everything is comfortable and familiar and everyone accepts me for all my odd ways. I want to be with my brothers, who understand my sense of humour, and my mum, who is patient when I’m annoying. I don’t want to feel like I have to justify myself to these people. I don’t want to have to pretend to like them.

That’s not true. I do like them, it’s just hard to like them when, this morning, I was still with my family.

I think universities should sort people into residential colleges based on their interests, so all the knitters and tea-drinkers can live together in a cosy, secluded building by a forest, while all the partiers and social people can live somewhere else.