Very stressed, very ill. On a better note, I've finished my Historiography, Flight vs. fight, and quarantine chapters entirely (save for the conclusion, but those are always the last to be added because I hate summing things up entirely). The chapter that I am currently writing has 1600 words and I have another two and half hours before I will return home to sleep.
The wait for the Oxford results is becoming excruciating. With 13% acceptance rate, I have pretty much accepted that I will not get in. Still, I hold out the faintest bit of hope because this IS my dream, not to be lightly given up. I've worked hard for this and, hopefully, all of that hard work will pay off. A little under two weeks until the results have to be mailed out. (I check my mailbox several times a day in the vain hope that perhaps they've sent them early, but to no avail...yet.) Knowing my luck, the letter will arrive at school while I am on spring break.
Ugh...I wish I could just SEE that I've been rejected. It will stop the hoping and the 'what if's' that keep running through my head, distracting me from much more important (and immediate) things, such as the SMP. Current page count (with just three chapters added to the file): 39. Predicted: 80+.
Back to work.
"We're going to pieces, we're falling apart"