I can’t believe how i feel right now. A way I haven’t felt in a long time, being depressed again. My bubble ruptured itself so quickly. After six months of bliss and happiness, I’m suddenly unhappy again. I’m at uni now - the goal, after so much time and effort, finally achieved. And you know what? I don’t even know if it was worth it. I hate it.
My course sucks. The people in my lectures? I hate them. Not individually, but collectively. People keep telling me, just wait it out. It’ll get better. Change course if you’re not happy.
I think that’s wrong though. It’s not really about my course. It’s about uni itself: I don’t like it. I hate students when I see them in the street. They’re part of this big bubble. All fancy dress pub crawls and self-importance. Academia is a fraud, too. It’s an extension of the bubble. I can’t imagine anything worse than studying for life. I’m sick of essays, of referencing, of ridiculous left wing student politics.
And I’m in so much debt already. If anyone had half a fucking brain, they’d realise that the problem with uni isn’t the rise in fucking fees. The problem is the fact that my maintenance loan doesn’t even cover my rent. There’s no possibility of getting a bigger loan without having poorer parents. It’s not like I’m any less likely to pay it back than someone else. In fact, you could say that’s why I’m more likely.
I don’t get any grants or bursaries, either. One of my housemates gets his maintenance loan (probably a higher one than mine too, due to having a poor mother) and then a six grand grant, just for living in Wales. He complained the other day about having no money, already. The concept of looking for a job here only just occurred to him, and he found it upsetting, as if it was some kind of great inconvenience that might impact on his studies. He has 6 hours of contact time a week. I have 14 hours a week of contact time. He attempts to justify it with “more reading”, which is bullshit. I was set 70 pages to read this week, from a textbook I’ve only just been told about, that I can’t afford anyway. The worst part is the book is written by my lecturer, yet I’m still paying a ridiculous full whack for it. Academia is fucking fraud.
I couldn’t even have ordered it if I had the money and known about it before, because I don’t technically have a fucking address. I’ve only just sorted out a house, and I don’t move in until Friday at earliest. Three weeks into term. Entirely not my fault, either. The first house I was supposed to move into fell through the day after I was supposed to move in (I realise the ridiculousness of that statement) due to combination of landlord greediness and agent incompetence. It’s ridiculous that the university don’t have enough halls to provide for even a majority of first years.
Despite the shitty nature of uni itself, I genuinely love the town in which I live. It’s a fantastic, thriving place, completely stimulating and fascinating at all times. The people I’ve met are interesting, smart and challenging. Unfortunately, uni is not.