Jorge told me the other day that I am possibly the least bipolar person he knows, perhaps due to the fact that I am often doing any of the following things : saying hello to people in a happy voice, skipping, or both. The truth of the matter is quite the opposite, of course, anyone who spends the entire day with me will realize that I am as likely to be really excited by the dewy grass as I am to be depressed that I don't have time to enjoy that little wetness on my feet.

I've only spent two weekends proper at school and its a mix of playing Jenga on my floor during which I show people my super block-stacking/pulling out chops while writing a Spanish essay and of impromptu parties on weekdays in which we run and shout and I take pictures of friends engaging in their illicit activities. For the most part I get to spend it with Serkan, which is the one thing I spend my entire week looking forward to. It is very satisfying to me, but at the close of every weekend there is a complete sadness when he leaves, and the knowledge that our future will be crowded with departures and separations. Sometimes the murkiness of what may come frightens me, and puts knots in my throat, but it is the only thing I know how to do, and I am more afraid of the alternative. I wish I didn't have to go through these epic waves of emotion, and that I could be as uniformly happy as I was the very first semester I was in school. I was delirious, enthralled, excited and never alone. These days I feel older and heavier; I wish very hard for the lightness of before to return to me and stay with me always.