Eating cold pizza at 2 a.m. while reviewing flashcards.
EATING COLD PIZZA AT 2 A.M. WHILE REVIEWING FLASHCARDS.
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Remember that hum of the library at an ungodly hour, the only sound your own nervous chewing? The fluorescent glow reflecting off perfectly color-coded notes, each highlight a desperate plea for retention. Maybe a tear blurred a crucial definition, quickly wiped away before anyone saw, or perhaps you just let it fall, a silent testament to the sheer, exhilarating, overwhelming pressure. Cold pizza wasn’t just food; it was fuel, a greasy, comforting contract with your ambition. Every congealed bite, every flipped flashcard, felt like a tiny victory in the war against the clock and the syllabus. You’d taste the slight bitterness of lukewarm coffee, the lingering spice of pepperoni, and the metallic tang of sheer exhaustion. But you kept going. Because that’s what we did. We pushed past the fatigue, past the doubts, past the existential dread of that 10-page paper. This wasn't just about grades; it was about proving something, to ourselves, to the legacy, to the promise. It was about forging resilience in the crucible of late-night study sessions, fueled by questionable sustenance and an unshakeable drive. The memory still lingers, doesn't it? That unique blend of stress and purpose, that shared understanding of what it took.
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