My attempts at the academic life have long been mistook for actual intelligence. Often, I feel as if this is something to be confessed, but I realize that if this is the verdict to which people come then it is really no business of mine to shatter their ill-founded perceptions. They are welcome to believe what they will, and I will happily go on living my lie of a life.
Every once in a while, though, the facade slips, and I have to own up to my failures. The facade seems to be slipping often here in Oxford. Oh yes, my way of life is even possible here, but the overwhelming amount of brilliant minds here certainly creates obstacles. You see, sometimes I fool others so well, that even I start to believe that I have truly formidable intellectual abilities. But Oxford has succeeded in cruelly ripping these fallacies from my clenched fists, and I can only shake my head in wonder that I ever looked up to myself so. This has shaken me. My deception is becoming more and more transparent, and sometimes, when the quizzical brows of my tutors lift even higher and their eyes glint with mischievous understanding, I want to whisper to someone, "They know!"
My cover has been blown, but I've enjoyed my double life while it lasted.
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