Third year: the time when saying “it’s nearly over” is either horrifying, relieving, or (most likely) both. Each time I sit down to write this article, my thoughts have changed drastically from the previous attempt – when these attempts are only separated by a matter of hours, it’s fair to say that nothing quite prepares you for the emotional rollercoaster that is Lent term of third year. My friends and I joke about the need for a welfare warning at the start of third year, but seriously, a heads-up would have been nice. Going from feeling like you’ve got this (whatever ‘this’ is) one minute to drowning in a spiral of existential dread the next can be somewhat derailing. I’m aware this may sound overdramatic, but emotions in excess really do typify the third-year experience, as the following ramble will no doubt reveal.

“My friends and I joke about the need for a welfare warning at the start of third year, but seriously, a heads-up would have been nice”

During our start-of-term meeting, after rattling off this term’s to-do list, my DoS gently reminded me to try and enjoy my final eight weeks of learning. Yet in the haze of balancing supo essays with dissertation writing, job applications, and writing Master’s personal statements, the term quickly becomes defined by counting down how many essays you have left, and how long it will be until you can definitively answer the “So, what are your plans for next year?” question. Taking a moment to actually enjoy the texts you’re working on and the lectures you’re attending quickly falls to the bottom of the to-do list.

Yet as the weeks roll on and this number of essays gradually reduces, the realisation that you’ve only got four essays to go moves from being relieving to bittersweet. After finishing my penultimate supo essay for one of my papers, I was hit by an unexpected wave of sadness. Maybe it was the mix of slow pop love songs Spotify decided I had to listen to that evening, but pressing the full stop key came with the mildly terrifying awareness that the familiar routine of the past three years would soon be coming to an end. The fact that the essay was on a topic that formed the heart of my personal statement obviously did not help matters, providing ample opportunity to reflect on this full-circle moment and sending me into a spiral of over-romanticisation while Adele played in the background.

“I was sent into a spiral of over-romanticisation while Adele played in the background”

It was then that I remembered I do actually quite like my degree – a fact easily forgotten while we’re here. The thought that reading and writing about books, which has been the corner of my academic (and so life) identity since I can remember, would no longer form the bulk of my daily work, was deeply disorientating. Unlike my previous euphoria at imagining a time when I could just read books for fun, I found myself researching Master’s courses – I guess they’re called a panic Master’s for a reason, right?

Having missed the boat for a Cambridge Master’s, this idea diminished somewhat, leading me to the conclusion that, while I love my subject, perhaps my desire to continue studying was actually a desire to linger here for a while longer. After years of work to achieve the dream of studying at Cambridge, the thought of it coming to an end brings about an overwhelming mixture of sadness, fear, pride, and concern about whether I’ve truly ‘made the most’ of it. Of course, this will all seem insignificant in a matter of years, but the intensity of these terms means that the pressure to squeeze everything in can also squeeze the enjoyment out of it all. Everything suddenly becomes a negotiation or a sacrifice, and you find yourself caught in a cycle of weighing up the importance of making memories, actually doing your degree, and maybe getting some sleep in there, too.

The good thing is that it’s not too late. We still have two weeks of Lent to go and, minus the (minor) inconvenience of next term’s (somewhat) important exams, there’s still time to tick off any lingering desires from your Cambridge bucket list. While it will most likely be even harder to enjoy next term, it’s also even more important to attempt to punt to Grantchester, to try out that new Jack’s flavour, or to go to formal just because, purely so the library air doesn’t make you go completely insane. Plus, the added knowledge that we get a whole extra week of Cambridge to ourselves before we have to graduate and become proper adults slightly cushions the Lent term overwhelm.

I’m aware that I may be deluding myself, and that I’ll probably change my mind in an hour or two, but for now, remind yourself that while it may be nearly over, it’s not over yet. Although it doesn’t feel like like it, four months is still quite a long time (ish). But maybe, for your own sake as well as your friends’, try to fight against the internal countdown and the anticipatory sentimentality (rich advice, I know). You’re still here – there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

And another word of advice: do NOT under any circumstances decide that third year is the perfect time to rewatch Gilmore Girls. Seeing Rory apply for her dream job, get rejected, graduate, and leave home will all suddenly be a bit too close for comfort… trust me, you only need to experience all that once.

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