Intro to Uni

A brief recollection of my first hours on campus.

I leave his house and start walking, realising that this hill in front of me is f*****g huge. I’m still wearing my clothes from the night before, and smell like cigarettes and liquor. When I get about half way, I make a really irritating realisation: I’ve left my bra behind. I was wearing a lacy white shirt so when I look down, I discover that my n*****s are encroaching on the sunlight. Now I can’t take off my cardi, and it’s only getting warmer, and this hills only getting steeper. F**k. 

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I have one contact lens in my eye. If this has ever happened to you, this is no malign mystery. One eye is completely blurry, and the other one is only vaguely functional. Everything looks weird. I do remember trying to coax them out, recalling strict instructions from my dad to ‘always remove them for the preservation... ' 

Whatever. Lens is lost. 

So eventually, I arrive at the monumental stairs that lead up to the university. I reach the platform, holding my thighs, huffing reminiscently of all the cigarettes I smoked the night before. I’m still bent over, but raise my chin to receive the sight before me: diligence for the most part; students everywhere roaming about curiously, all sort of making their way to Jammie Hall, where I soon find out we have the enormous congregation. Obviously, I’m incapable of recognising anyone because of my impaired vision, so I find a seat at the back on the left, secretly trying to cover my blind eye and stare through the one functional lens to seek out my friends. I fail dismally, and land up sort of swaying on my seat in a state of what seems like perpetual intoxication. 

This man’s voice is crackling over the speakers. I can’t handle it anymore, so I sneak out the back entrance. I inhale and glance over the now emptier stony stairs. It’s really beautiful; houses just appear further and further down the slope until they fade into the polluted mist in the distance. I wait until it’s done, then scan the exiting masses for a familiar face. There she is. There’s Kate. She’s got blonde curly hair, large b***s, palish skin and exquisitely light green eyes. We went to school together. She swears a lot and has the occasional sense of fashion. She’s a strange concoction of tomboyish femininity. Like usual, this day she’s wearing jeans, little tacky shoes, a vest and cardie. Her make-up is smudged and I suspect that she’s probably still drunk. I wave to her. She runs up to me. Definitely still drunk.

“Razzle! Come here, you joo joo” She lifts me off the ground. Tequila. Her forehead so unknowingly near to my n*****s. 

“Willow! How the f**k are you?”
“Bro. I’m amazing. Still so drunk”. She does an embarrassing imitation of how she moves at the club, at 3 in the morning, to hip-pop. 

I laugh, and tell her that we both need coffee.

Reviews

[Maya]

This is very well-done (for the most part) - short, to the point, lots of good description, solid sentences.

Some of the flowery language felt unnecessary, though. I understand the appeal in using it (I do it all the time), but I think that there are times when it can hit you head you over the head, and this felt like one of those times. Just sayin'.

But well-done overall.

[Rosa Carlyle-Mitchell]

Yeah I'm a sucker for that flowery nonsense. Thanks for the honesty! I shall revisit it.