It’s really what you make of it.
There’s this strange balance of emotions that’s created when I take in the immense tragedy that is characteristic of Jean Rhys’ Wide Sargasso Sea, and then lie on my bed under my comfy comfy sheets and know that my exams are over and the next morning I don’t have to worry about the work I have to do.
Strange balance of emotions is a strange phrase. Mixed up sounds too complex and messy. But it is a balance. Like when nothing’s really going right, but I find it within me to be happy anyway.
