It was only apt that I wrote my last ever blog post as an undergraduate English student and titled it with a book title. Tomorrow I sit my final exam of my degree; after this I will be in a perpetually reading/drunken stupor for two weeks before I start working. Life is good. Remembering back to finishing first and second year, this ending feels weird. Some people I'll never see again in person, and others I will cling to like limpets. Everyone seems to be blindly going forth into their own adventures (be they big or small) and I think that's incredible; we've all grown from these gawky English students to adults (ish) (pretending to be) (we're not adults, noooooooo) who have a voice. If I think back to myself when I was a meek and mild barely-eighteen year old, I chuckle. I was so blissfully unaware, so clueless, and not all that happy. It's taken me three years but I think I'm finally at a place where I feel relatively less like a headless chicken and more...
Literature and Life