Still, there are my memories of London which inevitably feel unreal. Quite apart from those random trysts with random people, I miss my friends, the actual connections that I made, the places that I visited with them, our wide-eyed, newcomer awe filling the crevices of a weary, cynical city. I think London will always have a special attraction for me not so much because of London per se, but because it was where I spent one of the most exhilarating, life-changing and memorable years of my life. Maybe I would have the chance to go back; even then, it wouldn't be the same. I would be older, I would have commitments, and London would be known. It wouldn't be the same as experiencing all of it - cultural diversity, a multitude of foreign accents, a new bar/club every Friday night - for the first time.
I'm quite sad today because I have good cause to believe that my Cambridge application is unsuccessful. It's still officially under consideration but come on. I don't know whether to find myself ludicrous that I'm already planning in my head to re-apply at the end of the year and imagining the new people who could write influential references for me. This university has been the unreachable dream for so long, the Holy Grail to end all Holy Grails, that my judgement is seriously impaired when it comes to it. It's objectively not even a good place for the topic of my research proposal, but I want it for its own sake,.
I think it's finally time to move on, and to stop letting it affect my self-confidence and sense of self-worth. This is so incredibly tiring.
On the bright side, I'm playing tennis in 25 minutes. I definitely know how I'm gonna release some of this pent-up aggression and frustration.