four years of "hard work", 3 years of going in every day and finishing every essay the day before its due, and a year extension to finish my dissertation. i did all 1200 words in one week on my own, locked my room with my bong..i still don't know how i managed to finish it... i remember getting the results letter through the post and opening it in front of my mum. 2 marks of getting a 1st.. slightly disappointing but still amazed that i had actually made it through university, in my mind every one else was opening their letters, drinking champagne and planning a fucking mash up to celebrate, i told every one on facebook i could and people seemed happy.. i wanted to just go and get fucking drunk and celebrate the fact i had just got a fucking degree, somethings none of my mates or peers where close to getting at the time. for a brief moment i imagined that my mates had organised some sort of party or at least got every one down the pub for the night. every one was skint and couldn't be arsed. i smoked about 5 bongs in quick succession then stole a bottle of wine from under the kitchen sink as Torquil picked me up in his car.. Josh and Roach where already in the motor so i clambered in to a back seat. Josh was fucked and didn't seem to know what was going on although he did congratulate me and gave me about 5 Etizolam (Basically cheap Chinese Vallium), i ate 3. Torquil was just annoyed he had to dive and roach was a bit pissed and was craving coke. we stopped in Aldi car park, by the prison, to try and phone some one to get more weed. no one else had cash apart from a 10er i had left over from the day before. no one answered any way. i downed half my bottle of wine with the other 2 zolams and passed the last half around me josh and roach. every one was bored and skint so we drove home. it felt like a dream watching the blurred orange streaks that flowed past like liquid from the lamp post, i wasnt sure if this was even real.but it was too empty to be a dream. i got out the car and slid the key in the front door in slow motion. stole more beer from my brothers stash in the kitchen and floated up stairs. more beer. more bongs. half awake half asleep. soft beats from ambient music drip through my ears into my brain. i draw a Buddhist monk with half his face blowing away in the wind. the wind is made of words like "forgotten, later, tomorrow and why". one last massive bong and i fall asleep half remembering that i had regurgitated some type of emotion on to paper. At least something constructive happened that day.