Dear Stanford,
You had me there for a second. I thought you would forsake me, leave me for dead, abandon me in the dark without a flashlight to lead the way. I walked around today in a dire mood, thinking that you had shunned me from the embrace of your campus. My anxiety was so far-reaching, that I met with great difficulty in concentrating on the fixating lecture of Professor Garabedian himself! [something about ... ligase enzymes?] But you! Oh you! You took me in your loving arms and said, "You know what, Gordon, you're not as bad as they all think you are. Why don't you come study in me?" to which I said, "O merciful Leland Stanford Jr!! How doth thou looketh upon me with love and devotion ... or lovotion! I am truly blessèd!" And together we flew off into the night--just you, me, and the antigravity accelerators rooted deep into the foundations of your campus.
Sincerely,
Gordon.
While writing this letter, I seriously had to check to make sure that this wasn't just another figment of my imagination. Let's hope it's not. Thanks to everyone who never doubted me for a second when I couldn't do the same.