If three years ago you would have asked if I was going to apply for a Masters I would have told you no. If two years ago you would have asked me if I was feeling positive about the decision I was making I would have told you "not sure".  If a year ago you would have asked me if I liked my theme I would have told you yes. But if nine months ago you would have asked me if I was happy I would have told you no. If half a year ago you would have asked me if I wanted to throw everything out of the window, throw all the papers away and quit it all I would have given a straight forward yes. I was losing my mind. Everything I would do never seemed enough. I didn't read enough. I didn't write enough. I wouldn't write properly. I was losing my mind. And in the middle of all that I got sick. Not once, but twice.

If felt like time was being wasted. And everything I read was the same thing. Over and over again. Only written in different ways by different authors. I was losing hope by each day. And each day the thought of saying "screw it all" was getting stronger. But then it came the investigation party. And all of suddenly there was fun in the work. (And the fact I met some pretty handsome guys didn't hurt either). And before I knew it the phase of analyzing and nights where sleep was short arrived.

In a blink of an eye two years had passed by. In a blink of an eye it was done. What I thought I'd never do. And what I believe I'd never finish was done. It was over. I had a major and now a master. It was done. And all of suddenly it all felt real. And the impossible was done.

It's here. It's done. I'm a Masters now.