On the never-ending routine
Do you ever feel like you’re on an episode of the Truman Show? Following a rigid, agonizingly repetitive script that you aren’t sure you wrote? Like, Eisgruber is secretly some major Hollywood producer and there's an entire audience at home, sick sociopaths filled with joy while watching the pain of your struggling to hand in your paper on time? Ever feel like you’re not really alone as you pull that all-nighter? Perhaps you’ve experienced some form of existential dread while walking from your dorm to Frist, feeling glued to the pressures of student life? If you answered yes to any of these questions, welcome to the abyss of routine.