Sometimes happiness consists of packing up and moving out, of that curious wistful happiness where you intensely relive each happy moment you experienced in a place, or in a certain outfit, or at a certain period of your life.

Lots of things end soon. My time at Cambridge is drawing to a close, and I will miss this ridiculous place.

Another thing which seems to have ended is my life free from pain, a childhood and adolescence without disease, doctors, embarrassment. I hope against hope that this is not the case, and that I will grow through this and emerge in a glorious and long-lasting remission of symptoms. I really hope so.

In the meantime, however, I must go on with packing up memories of fancy dress, first-date clothes, and a million stories, all bulging out of my suitcase.

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