We students lead peculiar existences. Our routines are all over the place, if we have one at all. We are never free from our work, whether lying awake in bed, walking in the street or anywhere but in our sleep or the oblivion of intoxication. Bedtimes and mealtimes vary drastically from person to person and day to day. A legitimate dinner can be a takeaway pizza at 2am, breakfast might happen at 5pm, and bedtime is whenever we’re not in class or partying. We’re largely cut off from the real world, so anything goes.
Midnight on any given day could find me beavering away at my laptop alone in my room, or playing pool with a bearded Scotsman in the common room, or lolling at a table in the kitchen having an in-depth discussion, or body rolling on the dance floor. I couldn’t tell you which it might be, such is my life right now. But the really interesting things always seem to happen in the wee hours, as we so often exploit our privilege (or stupidity) to still be awake during them.
There is something about the early hours of the morning that seems to contain the magic fairy glue that binds us together. These are the quiet hours, when the world is at rest and won’t disturb us. The twilit period when precise hours matter not, as they all blend into one another. When you can temporarily feel like the only people in the world, and all else is still. The time for friends to discuss and D&M at length, solemn or silly, and make odd decisions, such as to watch bizarre, leg-crossing films like Teeth (it’s quite funny tbh). The time for tortured students to toil on till sunrise, earning that degree with every sleepless night and missed meal and communal commiseration of their lot. The time for new lovers to come together, and bask in their mutual wonderment at the perfection of the other: the first and only in the world to undergo this revelation. The time, as habit seems to dictate, to write blog posts.