Dealing.

'Rejected. Rejected. Rejected' And then the immediate consolations and gradual justifications rush forward and you envelope yourself in them so that you won't have to actually come to terms with the fact that a university that you would have given anything to go to simply doesn't think you're good enough. You think about the essay you worked so hard on, the stupid standardized admission tests that you slaved over, the nights you spent studying for A level exams. But guess what? At the end of the day you probably won't get to America if you don't have the money. You won't get to Canada if you don't have the money either. And even if you HAVE the money the UK won't take you because now domestics are officially paying double. Unless of course your major is Finance.

So it's all about money. Unless you're lucky. Don't get me wrong. If you get lucky and a university gives you aid or takes you despite the fact that you want to study anthropology and political science (yes, together) then that's awesome. But that makes you lucky.

'Does it all work out in the end?' I asked him. He's one of the smartest people I know. He hesitated before answering. 'It does. I mean. It really shook me. My college rejections. I didn't expect them. But then one comes out of it, realizing how the rat race to secure a spot at the top or to get into the college of 'one's dreams' is so SO over-rated'

'It doesn't matter' She said. 'Are you going to get any dumber if you go local? Of course not. Look at what you have and take the best from it. Thank God you won't be spending hundreds on a crap professor who can't teach. I met some of my best teachers at Kinnaird not when I went to the UK. You'll be fine.'

And all I could do was nod in agreement