Domestic tragedy

It's so hard not to be lazy in the morning here.
Coffee and studying-not my favorite combination,but it will have to do.
Honestly,I think I'm 90% made out of music.
This room is so small and angular that even the most mendable of domestic tragedies echoes in painful sighs.
My body is evil and my mind is trying too hard to be nice.
I can't afford to fall in love every single time I go on the subway-even if we're talking about a tall,dark and gorgeous stranger sent by the gods to make my knees go weak and my mind to silently weep.
If I were to sum up my entire academic joy,it would go under the label "English literature seminar".
Nodding and wearing glasses are just two of the things which trick teachers into believing you actually know what you're doing with your life.
"I would walk 500 miles/And I would walk 500 more/Just to get my little ticket/And walk out of this train station."
The mere thought of lemon-anything makes my mouth cringe,yet that doesn't seem to stop me from eating it in unhealthy quantities.
Fighting the urge to sleep in order to finish another book is a skill worth putting in my CV now.
You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and that's just the saddest thing ever.
I'm packing my bags and,for once,hoping that time would go faster.
Springy bed and wishful prayers-another day gone by...