Well, I can confirm that these so-called "best years" are officially over. In fact, they seemed to end a few months ago when the dissertation fear loomed over every fellow student.
So, I have achieved the ultimate status. I have managed what countless women fought for my right to do, and I have letters after my name. Not yet, actually, as I haven't had the graduation ceremony, but the letters are hovering nearby, ready and waiting.
No, I wasn't ready to finish. And no, I don't know what comes next. I wasn't one of the people that planned and did work experience every opportunity. I am literally in limbo. I am not prepared for the questions of the people that have nothing else to ask but, "so, what's next?" You tell me. I respond with a jovial, nonchalant attitude I have perfected, "I think I'll take a year out, maybe travel." Inside I'm terrified. I have no answer, and my answer doesn't seem to satisfy anybody who asks. They all expect me to have my life sorted out by now - after all, I've got a degree.
Well, bully for me.
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