The anger and fury felt on the 30th of January:
“You know that feeling where you feel you’ve tried your best, but yet somehow you just can’t get that result that you’re hoping for? Yea. It happens to me, all the time. For me, I’m not even aiming for result. I’m just aiming for at least 5 marks out of 25 marks. That’s not even a pass. That’s not even two-thirds of a pass. It’s freaking 25%. How rubbish is that. Yet, I score 1 mark out of the whole comprehension I have done; not including summary. It wasn’t a class test or major test (Thank God), it was homework. If I can’t even do well for homework, what about freaking Common Test Paper tomorrow? I’m screwed. I’m so screwed.
I’m scared. I’m really scared for my O Levels. English isn’t a subject that you can improve overnight. It is gradual and I have been at it for nearly a year and yet, no improvement has been made. It is not Chemistry, AMaths or Geography that I am afraid for O Levels, it is English. English. I sound more pathetic as I speak because it is my language that I speak. One and only language that I can properly converse in. If I can’t do well in my one and only language, what else do I have? I’m losing faith all together. I’m losing faith in my religion. Lord, please bring me back. Bring me back to You.”
It’s a brand new month, the month of February. Time slowly ticks past and yet, memories of the past still flood my mind continuously. Perhaps it is a form of escape; a reliever from the chaotic atmosphere around me. I just close my eyes, breathe and fall back into visions of memories. I look back and things have changed tremendously. How I wish that I could rewind those times and live them again.
I’m so tired. I’m just so emotionally and physically drained. I want out.