‘Welcome to Harvard…’

Reading those 3 letters on the top of the page through my blurry vision almost doesn’t feel real. I can’t get the letter to stop trembling slightly in my hands and so it’s hard to convince myself that I am reading the words correctly. It’s hard to believe that all the hard work actually appeared to pay off.

All the tears and late nights. All the endless cramming of numbers and words about books that I didn’t even like. All the stress induced panic attacks and sleepless nights worrying about what would and wouldn’t be on a test that I never had any hope of predicting anyway.

All of it paid off.

In the best possible way.

Harvard felt like a dream school.

Something that didn’t quite exist in the real world. Especially in my real world.

But there it is. In slightly blurry letters.

I almost can’t get quite past the first sentence. Right there below my name. ‘Welcome to Harvard…’ I keep re-reading it over and over again. Thinking that it might change suddenly if I blink often enough. I don’t know when the shock will wear off from seeing it. Or whether it will ever wear off.

Part of me hopes that it never will. But then part of me hopes that I can get over it so I can give it all that I’ve got.

For now though…

I got into Harvard.

Main sign off

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Sophie, twenty-something, avid reader, writer, really good at watching whole seasons of TV shows in one weekend and using 10 words where 5 will do, overzealous user of the ellipsis and parentheses, starts too many sentences with ‘and’ and ‘so’, living in a continual state of Wanderlust.

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