A year’s worth of research and writing has amounted to 8619 words, a glossy cover and paying a nice Chinese lady £9 (!) to bind two copies for me, all ready for hand-in tomorrow.
I started the bulk of the writing in January, one week after R.L left me.
I continued to write throughout February and March, during which time I relapsed twice, returned to self-harm, started Lithium therapy, found out R.L has a new girlfriend, relapsed again and started the Recovery Process (again).
To say that I am proud of myself is an understatement. Normally, students add a page of acknowledgements, a list of people whom they “couldn’t have done it without.”
I have added no such page, because I done this all on my own. Nobody has helped me one single bit. Yes, it was nice to chat to H about her Sylvia Plath dissertation, on body and voice, and exchange books and whatever, but all of this work is entirely my own. My family didn’t help, my friends didn’t help, my psychiatric team didn’t help with my dissertation. I have done it on my own.
It’s been tough. If I fail, or get a bad mark, I will blame R.L because it will be entirely his fucking fault. I know I can write, and I write essays well, always getting top marks. If I get a poor grade for this I will be devastated.
Apart from the novel that I have been working on for 3 years, this dissertation is my life’s work. I cannot fail.
But alas, there is nothing I can do now. What’s done is done.
I am now going to eat cheesecake and drink wine until one of them makes me vomit.
Started from the bottom now we’re here
Started from the bottom now my whole team fuckin’ here!!!
Big ups to the RHUL English Department Class of 2011