Glad to get a friendly revision. I like the revision better than the origional 'too' worked up.
OP, in case you'd like to hear stories of grief, to the tune of 'too' squared, some of my memorable ones were:
1) laying full-out on a floor with tears streaming down, and the fellow members of my training group just witnessing the grief. i was training as a therapist throughout the last few years, so i really got to go for gold with my emotions about these application things. felt good. especially when i could 'yeah, but' anything they said. i declared that i would no longer try to become a doctor, and meant it. and then the tears came - because these kinds of goals are no little matter, and giving up on them is a huge, huge deal. a month later, i decided to keep trying. but that moment, baby, that moment! that was the year i got no interviews
2)last year i started applying to the states, late, and got two interviews. i interviewed at one school, and got rejected there before hearing about the second interview. so i finally had my shot. and got shot down. when i found out, i went out walking. felt weak, didn't want to go on. thought about how wonderful oblivion would be, not having to keep getting back in the saddle, angry that that wasn't an option, didn't know what i wanted to do instead. thought about how nice it would be to be a rock. just a rock, nothing more. so i just started walking and walking for an hour. when i got home i wrote an imaginary letter to patch adams telling him all about stupid admissions committees, etc. never did mail that puppy! also wrote a poem cursing admissions committee members in a truly memorable couples therapy session. my partner cursed her bosses in a poem, then we read each other's poems out loud to each other. while i was reading hers, I placed a '****' in exactly the right place, and she loved the addition, it really gave the poem some extra zing. and i love swearing, too. the contents of my poem had something to do with Zeus blighting the school that did not see my worth. felt good.
as i write that, i remember a henry rollins stand-up, he talks about getting dumped, so dressing all in black, tying a towel around his neck as a super-hero, putting one leg up on a chair, then writing dark poetry, with black ink, on black paper, then later trying to read the thing, by holding it up to the light and squinting trying to read the glint off the ink.
this year, who knows.