I know, that feeling of summer anticipation is wearing away on your skull like the aesthetician will on your freshly-cut finger nails, only to be painted a blood shade of red or a deep dark purple (I still can't decide).
You have nothing to complain about: the weather is warm (enough), you have a job (albeit unpaid) and one pesky exam for a course that, if your skim notes occasionally over the next two weeks, you'll get a mark roughly somewhere in the good enough to better-than-expected range.
The bathroom's spotless, your bed is made, and you have clean clothes to last at least the weekend. No reason to, or realistically to feel guilty about, moderately drinking and socializing for the next two or three nights.
The long walk home from work is even going to feel nice.
There is even an unexpected presence of testosterone in the building. These things can be sensed.
It's just that feeling of unknown...coupled with probably knowing...topped off with a lack of fear of the unknown...that's left you blank.
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