Drugs and alcohol fuelled my creativity. I reasoned that if it was good enough for Hendrix then it was good enough for me but as i lay here at only five and a half hours away from a lecture I have not done an ounce of preparation for, I realise that it’s actually boredom. Boredom not because I have nothing to do, but a boredom of the real world. I’m fed up of university after a fortnight and not because I don’t want to do it, I really do, but because I know I’m meant for better things. Not to sound egotistical, but I really, really am.