I have a laundry list of grievances that are directly interfering with my summer goal (to be a more positive person) but I’m finding it hard (to be a more positive person) while the smell of salami floats around my room (which has no ambient lighting).
Who is up eating meat in Frying Pan Alley? It is a quarter to eleven. Someone is screaming “pourquoi?” in the street.
Today I saw the Magna Carta.
It is situated behind some glass in the British Library. The exhibit it’s in full of really incredible things—the lyrics to “A Hard Days Night” scribbled on a first birthday card to John Lennon’s son, which in a way is pretty brutal. Other things like letters from the Bronte sisters, Virginia Woolf, Charles Dickens.
But there was no sign anywhere above the Magna Carta except for it being labeled “Historical Documents” which is above nearly everything there. The thing about this that kills me is it is the Magna Carta. It’s the same document that I had to write a DBQ about my junior year and it sits in the British Museum making no fuss about it being the Magna Carta.
It didn’t even look that cool.
The blinds in my room broke. They won’t go back up so it’s dark in here most of the time. The weather here is better than I expected. Which means that I packed the wrong clothes.
Everyone here dresses very nice.
Did you know that London is the third most monitored city in the world? Beijing and Shanghai are the only two beating it. There are 67 cameras for every 1000 people in London. There are also 8 million trees, thousands of Pret a Mangers, hundreds of men in my immediate area named Alfie, too many friendly pigeons, and one ibuprofen somewhere on the ground in my room.
I am very, very lonely. I think I have to mute my friends on twitter or I will kill myself.
I miss my cat. Some of my clothes still have his hair on it, so I can’t really escape him.
I want to lay down in my bed. I can’t lay down here without feeling guilty. If I am laying I am not doing, so much money to not be doing. But I love to lay. And I am so tired.
I think I am going through caffeine withdrawals. I miss cooking. The kitchen in the flat is miserable. A lot of it is very miserable.
British people are very unpleasant. I should have guessed based on Inbetweeners. They are unhelpful and accusatory and cold. I can count on one hand the amount of people who have seemed nice.
The thing about that is that I shouldn’t take it personally. But it really has me feeling more patriotic than I ever have been.
It seems that the global consensus is that Americans are dumb and loud and their niceness is superficial. British people are dumb and loud and callous. I can’t help but have a preference.
I am feeling dejected and insane. I can’t write anything good. My brain feels like it is on pause. I want to lay down forever. I bought some new books though that I am looking forward to, so I will read and try again to-morrow.
I don’t want to make it worse. but I miss you so much :0