It was the beginning of July, after midnight and I went to
sleep after doing some of the postponed, leftover homework, which was essential
to submit to get my last subject done. I
remember I finally started doing it because I refused my friend’s invitation to
have some beers and I promised her to punish myself for turning her down. It
was one of the nights when you lay in your bed and start thinking instead of
closing your eyes. We were supposed to enrol in the next year’s courses in a
few days. I already knew it’s only going to be more difficult. It wasn’t the
first time I was flirting with the idea of doing something different. What if I
don’t even want to continue in my study programme? Wouldn’t it be nice to study
abroad? Why should I wait another year to go to China with some kind of
uncertainty where I’ll end up?
