The devil, the anti christ, a torturous chore of a week that bitch slaps my liver and leaves my body a bloated, aching mess, covered in suspicious bruises that I have no memory of recieving.
And I love it. I'm a third year and am going to enjoy this oh so joyous right of passage to it's fullest. This time next year I will most likely be chained to a desk, partaking in monotonous 9 to 5 chores and nostaligically reminicing about that time i almost threw up at the bar in Kaos after a tequila shot too many.
Sod you first years.
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