Where to shed a tear when Hallward gets too much

Mournful sighs surround you, muttered swearing permeates and the surrounding faces appear inhuman in their sweaty stupor.

It can only be one place: Hallward Library, home of textbooks, hipsters, and enough tears to drown Free Willy.

The fluorescent light, unbearable heat and general aura of suffering makes the library more Hellward than Hallward during exam time.  Library goers feed off each others despair, and end up festering in a boiling hot cauldron of their own sweat and tears.

For some, the macho art of name calling and paper throwing is the only means of release.  Whether you think it Hellward or Brawlward, the place is unarguably demoralizing, grinding us down until we no longer understand why we’re crying or when the tears began.

To those who can no longer comprehend the hysterical wails that seem to be coming from themselves, we have compiled a list of possible reasons to cry in Hallward.

Be warned, just because we found the source of the waterworks, we’re still not entirely sure how to make them stop…

There is nothing more frustrating than walking past rows and rows of power points being used by intellectual dolts, all glued to their Farmville accounts.

If you don’t need a laptop point, don’t sit there. The consequence will be a loiterer standing an inch away from your neck, breathily crying until you crack and MOVE.

Having finally found a seat, you decide to peruse the journals for some inspiration.

All’s going well until some brute with an arm like the Hulk tries to suffocate you between the journal shelves.

Take heed readers, it’s a dog eat dog world in Hallward, and the committed will go to serious lengths to claim an elusive single cubicle.

Need I say more? An excess of caffeine tends to result in two toilet time consequences.

One – someones sensitive stomach has made the air in the toilets so rancid your eyes are not only watering from tears – the unexpected gas attack has your eyes on fire.

Two – you wonder how they dealt with the mess, as a caffeine user’s buzzed vision has resulted in most of the toilet paper and all of the hand towels being dumped on the floor.

With no equipment left to wipe your tears, everyone’s going to know you cried.

One of the only positives about the library is that it is socially acceptable to chain smoke an entire packet in an hour and no one can judge you.

However, you start to seriously re-evaluate your so-called ‘best friends’ when no one will join you outside for your fifth cigarette on the trot.

You gave them half of your Twix earlier…. they don’t even deserve your friendship! Why aren’t they supporting you in your nicotine fuelled plight to freedom! Cue the lonely whimper.

Revision has hit an unexpected high.  Your revision notes are finished, and it’s time to print just before the highlighting apocalypse begins! (Note, there is no correlation between the amount highlighted and the amount of information absorbed)

Not a tear has passed your eyelid until you get to the printer and find that not only do you have no printing credit left, to replenish funds you’re going to have to descend down three flights of stairs, and the money used will be cutting into your snacks supply.

Moving is hard.

When your body has finally said ‘No no no no no no’ to the idea of more caffeine, sugar becomes your only ally.

When pulling an all-nighter and the vending machine calls it quits, suddenly any possibility for revision fuel is gone.

Having been awake for 24 hours, water and a pathetic home packed dinner are not going to do the job. Domino’s it is, leading to food-guilt induced yowls.

A snap decision is made to get the lift back up to the sky lounge. You’ve bought a coffee to ease the pain of the day and it’s too heavy to brave the stairs. Much too heavy. Right.

Instant regrets when you realise that the lift has been used to transport enormous refuse bags between floors, and the one containing meat has been forgotten about and left.

If the loos were bad, the smell of decomposed garbage is so much worse. The eyes begin to burn in earnest, and what was meant to be a cruise up to the top floor becomes a claustrophobic count down until you can escape.

The death trap of the lift was only made acceptable by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee that somewhat covered the mouldy dregs in empty Starbucks cups that constituted most of the rubbish.

You bring your sustenance through the door only to be told by the wannabe librarian’s nasal declaration that, ‘Only water is allowed on this floor’.

You know what else isn’t allowed, pie in the library, but she will get one to the FACE if coffee becomes a banned substance.

So, we know that sometime’s it all gets a bit too much, and emotions get the better of us… When freedom is so close, but yet so so far…

BUT keep calm, carry on, and go for a nap downstairs on the sofas.