here is a lot to be said for blind positivity. On a good day, I’m a manifester, a big believer in my ability to speak things into existence. During my English A-Level, I had complete confidence that the crystals hidden in my bra would provide enough luck to snag me an A*. Today, I put great faith in words, relying on the same ‘I can do it’ that gets Olympic athletes across the finish line, to help me through difficult situations.
I’m now in my fourth year, and as such, must grapple with the reality of my Oxford days drawing to a close. Granted, this is something that every student must contend with, and I watched on as most of my friends bade a fond farewell to this city where our friendships began when they graduated last summer. Yet there is something about the fourth year that I’m certain makes the final year even more strange: a sense of something already lost, of living in a moment that has already passed.
Now, having exhausted myself with these relentless pursuits, the job has been passed on to a new bright-eyed Cupid, and in my retirement I’ve become fondly reflective, and decided to curate my insights into this list:
With term looming and a reading list down to our feet, we’re all getting our fair share of mental exercise. But with thinking comes frustration, and...
This may sound familiar. Five political prisoners are locked in a gas chamber in 1940s Russia. In a military-sanctioned experiment, the subjects are kept awake...
Between digging the bunker in the back garden and foraging for loo roll, I’ve mostly been scrolling through Oxlove recently, becoming increasingly invested in...
The Coronavirus pandemic, of which the far-reaching consequences will not be fully appreciated for many years, has seen a short-term shift from young people...
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