This is where I leave you//L.H

'2'

My morning went like any other. I woke up, got dressed, got my morning dosage of caffeine and headed back to the flat. However as soon as I got back to the flat, I was racing around trying to prepare myself for my interview at eleven. I had practically chugged down my latte before I jumped in the shower and washed my hair until I was a hundred percent sure there was not the slightest bit of grease in it. I scrubbed my body raw making sure that the scent of body odor had been replaced by the sweet scent of my lavender body soap. It was the probably the longest shower I had; however everything in my body was practically working on overtime and I couldn't get the energy to get out. I could practically feel every jolt of electricity that fired through my neurons, and every chemical reaction that formed in my body. It was my anxiety slowly rising to the surface, getting ready to boil over and all I could do was try to contain it inside.

Once out of the shower, I blow-dried my hair until my dark brown hair was sitting softly and lushly on my shoulders, not a stray hair in sight. I applied my make up cautiously and carefully, making sure that I wasn't going to have smudged eyeliner or lipstick when I walked into where I was getting interviewed. I used to not care about how well I did my make up. I would just apply some eye shadow, mascara and lip-gloss and be out the door. Though my mother hated it, and after about a hundred criticisms about the 'monstrosity' that was on my face, I started to take more time and practice more.

I looked at the bags that hung under my eyes and sighed, knowing that no amount of concealer could cover the dark rings that seemed to showcase my lack of sleep. I hadn't gotten much sleep after my little run in with my new neighbor. I didn't know much about this lad, except the fact that he was tall, he was from Australia, he was intimidating and he was just a plain mystery. Everything about him screamed secretive, and the whole night I laid awake just thinking about him – making scenario after scenario in my head of what this man had been through. What happened to him? Why were his eyes so sad?

Needless to say I got little to no sleep.

I picked out my clothes in a hurry, finding a nice white blouse and black dress pants ensemble, along with some nice black flats with a slight heel. I chucked them on quickly, just glancing in the mirror to make sure they weren't crooked and that my bra wasn't showing through the shirt. I then grabbed my handbag, which contained my purse and phone along with my writing portfolio and journal. By ten o'clock I was rushing out my block of flats and over to the nearest bus stop, just making it in time, as the doors were about to close. I swiped my card and found the nearest seat and sat down, closing my eyes as I listened to the bus doors shut and the engine rumble as the vehicle began to move again.

I spent the whole time to the station, floating in and out of sleep. I remained in a half conscious state the whole time, whilst people moved and chattered around me. I was exhausted, and only running on sugar and caffeine and I didn't know how I was still even slightly awake. Maybe it was the fact that the interview in the immediate future could either make or break my future.

The university of London was one of the top five best universities for arts and literature in the northern hemisphere – and it was second best in England. My parents had wanted me to go to that since I'd shown an interest in creative writing as a child and as I grew older, their dream for me became a dream of mine. My mother had been especially keen which was why she was doing everything she could to get me into the university. She was the one that had organized the interview I was about to have, in hopes that I would get early acceptance for the next semester starting in September. It didn't start for another six months but mum wanted to get me in early, so that I could use the rest of the time preparing and studying so that I would be the top of my course.

She always had high expectations for me.

The bus arrived at the station at 10:30, meaning that I had to quickly dash off if I wanted to make it to my interview with time to spare. The university of London was only a ten minute walk away, however knowing how much of a dawdler I was, I knew it was going to take me extra time to make it to the campus. What drew me most to this university was not just its rankings for the course I was doing, but the actual campus itself. The buildings were old buildings, dating back centuries to a time where literature and arts were one of the major aspects of the English culture. The buildings had been renovated numerous times since, but the old stone buildings with the many different sculptures, carvings and artistry was what made my eyes sparkle with delight. I think this is what drew many other students to this university, the buildings were not only beautiful but they seemed to have a story to tell. Something that many literature and art students would absolutely enjoy.