A long rehabilitative summer is over. Fun in the Malaysian, Singaporean and Grecian sun. I am several shades darker and no longer held by flimsy emotional tape - although some people who know me may beg to differ. To quote Bridget Jones, queen of floundering middle-aged women in both the non-fictional and fictional world, "it is a known fact that when one area of your life goes well, another falls spectacularly apart".
The time has come to return to poring through scientific papers from Nature and the same old shiteous routine. I wander around college looking at these first years and think to myself, "Oh, those were the days when I didn't have to think about finding internships and think of group projects and all these other not-so-little so-called pleasantries that life springs upon us". I often gaze at them with a spoonful of envy; I know that they will eventually morph into one of us old cronies who spends more time in the computer lab than at home. Well, I suppose every nerdling has its day.
But you know, getting older isn't such a bad thing. Sure, you'd spend quite a lot of time looking at old photos and thinking to yourself, "What the fuck have I done with my teenage years??" Still. That's okay. Because this is where the rest of your life begins.
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