I don't know how much longer I can sit in this dim hole in the ground with such questionable company. You'd think we weren't speaking the same language with the way they stare back when you're talking, glassy eyed and vacant as an atronach. Not to mention that my own eyes are nearly blind from reading your thesis by candlelight. (It's quite intriguing, by the way, but it's possible my surroundings simply have me craving any stimulus whatsoever. No offense.)
I don't know what the university hopes we turn up down here, but the only thing I seem to be studying are the effects of subterranean living on a sane mind. Oh, this is how it starts I bet! The slow tragic slide of a proud Mer to the pitiable depths of becoming a Falmer. My friend, if I should succumb to this mental degeneration and become a loping, drooling, savage, please make sure you record my account in the case study.