The cold seeps into your bones, so deep that it can never leave. The unforgiving work in front of you stares you in the face, asking “what are you going to do, huh?” But you look away a while, because you don’t have the answer. And the light is too much. There are a million clones around me all working off. I look at one and see her watching the ceiling and I smile to myself for this small victory. “I’m not alone” I think. But then I realise that she’ll probably fail less than I will anyway and I go back down to my work, protected by a veil of hair. I struggle to understand what is asked of me, I try but my mind starts to wander, I write as much as I can, I analyse every word but I already know it won’t be enough. It’s never enough and I hate myself for it. But no matter how hard I try I can’t change that and I wish I could. Brief looks at my watch bring me back to reality but every passing hour torments me, about the time, the very little work I have done, it reminds me that many people have already asked for a second sheet when I’m not even halfway through mine, it saps the life out of me and makes me shiver inside. But my outside must stay completely. Still.
And when there’s only one hour left some people rejoice but I can’t, it feels like I’ve been here for way too long and yet I can’t leave, I haven’t finished what I came here to do. I know I’ve already lost. No matter how much I do now it can never be enough. But in a way I knew I had lost even before I stepped into the room. I wasn’t ready, and now I’m paying the price.
As the others start to leave I keep staring at this puzzle, trying to put the last pieces together. I know I will never be as good as them, but that doesn’t mean I can stop trying. I have to finish this, it won’t be much but at least it’ll be finished and I haven’t found the ending yet. And I don’t have much time left.
When I finally do leave there were only three of us left, but I know them and I could guess that they were already on their third double-page when I hadn’t even written one. As I pack up my things and leave the room I have a sour taste in my mouth and my stomach was still churning. I’m estimating a six out of twenty, and that’s if they’re generous. I get that feeling that my heart is in my throat and my stomach is in my knees and I don’t know where my feet are. I want to cry but my pride stops me. I already cry too easily but I will not cry for this. This is over now, it has nothing left to do with me. It is up to Fate to decide what will happen now. My part is done. Farewell philosophy, until we meet again.
I’m in the middle (well nearing the end now) of a week of exams starting with four hours of philosophy (and of course instead of working my brain decided that writing this was a better use of my time :p ). Needless to say this is overly exaggerated (if this is what philosophy felt like I would not have come out of history-geography alive) so much stress and all… obviously not so much as some who are aiming slightly *ahemcoughcough* higher than me.
Have I said that I’ve been accepted in the school I wanted? And the best part is I don’t need much, I just need to pass my end-of-year exams which helps to make this week a lot less hellish, obviously I still need to work but I know that passing my exams is more doable than getting 16/20 or 18 or any other crazily high mark 😉