She laid on her bed, wondering what she is suppose to feel.
Nervous?
Relaxed?
Or even indifference?
She was confused. Terribly confused.
Or rather, she was too used to these feelings.
They probably occurred too often in her life.
She took a deep breath, as she boarded her grandfather's car.
He was kind enough to give her a lift to school.
Appreciation and gratitude eternally, she thought.
Yet her heart sunk as the car was approaching the school,
heavier with every step towards the building where she spent 2 years studying.
She questioned her heart,
and wished that it would be great that the results would come at a later date.
What would come, will arrive eventually anyway;
face the music.
Familiar faces and a surrounding she knew too well;
they gave her comfort to a little extent.
She stared at the clock.
2.23pm. 7 more minutes to 2.30pm.
Very reluctantly, she dragged her feet into the hall.
The welcoming speech didn't sound quite welcoming in her heart,
and the other commendations and statistics only made her feel worse.
They seem to be telling her what a failure she was.
A heart-wrenching mockery session.
Stop them please.
And yes, it was her turn finally.
The first person in class to receive that result slip and testimonials.
She intended to grab the results and go,
then hide in a corner to prepare herself for the shock.
But her eyes refused to obey her heart,
as they caught a glimpse of the printing.
NO A GRADES, her heart was popping out.
The two eye-catching D GRADES at the top made her felt like someone was tearing her apart.
The filthy grades that ruins everything.
A sense of regret ran a marathon in her brains.
Why did I come to SA?
Why did I take Econs?
Why did I choose this combination?
Why didn't I study harder?
Why am I not any smarter?
Why....
She could find no answer.
She had questioned herself before,
and she had promised herself not to dwell on them.
But the results were simply... daunting.
She used to think that getting As in A levels was just ... logical.
Seniors and friends around her, nearly all of them had As in their grades.
She blamed herself.
She scolded herself.
She hated herself.
Why am I just so damn stupid?
Why do I always disappoint my parents and myself?
She held her mobile tightly, as she hesitated to call her mother.
Plucking up her courage, she read her results to her mother.
Her mother sounded really unhappy at the other end of the line;
and she probably could tell just by the choice of words.
She had no more courage to call her father.
She was afraid to bring him disappointment too.
She texted him instead, and every alphabet on the screen felt like an insult.
He, however, was happy for her.
She felt slightly comforted, though she does not understand why.
She did not shed a tear, as she had promised herself not to.
She did try her best, she had no regrets.
But her results wasn't very telling of her efforts.
She didn't want to go home that early, though she knew that her grandparents were waiting eagerly for her results too.
She took the longest possible route home.
She counted every step she walked, and every bus stop the bus passed by.
At a short distance before reaching her house, many phone calls came in.
She was reluctant to pick them up, but she still did.
Friends and relatives called to ask for her results.
She answered them in a most diplomatic way,
predicted but not really up to standard and satisfied.
Yet they hungered for the harsh truth through their constant interrogation,
and began comparing results and reminding her how brillant others' results were.
This was the final blow.
She couldn't help but break down.
Nervous?
Relaxed?
Or even indifference?
She was confused. Terribly confused.
Or rather, she was too used to these feelings.
They probably occurred too often in her life.
She took a deep breath, as she boarded her grandfather's car.
He was kind enough to give her a lift to school.
Appreciation and gratitude eternally, she thought.
Yet her heart sunk as the car was approaching the school,
heavier with every step towards the building where she spent 2 years studying.
She questioned her heart,
and wished that it would be great that the results would come at a later date.
What would come, will arrive eventually anyway;
face the music.
Familiar faces and a surrounding she knew too well;
they gave her comfort to a little extent.
She stared at the clock.
2.23pm. 7 more minutes to 2.30pm.
Very reluctantly, she dragged her feet into the hall.
The welcoming speech didn't sound quite welcoming in her heart,
and the other commendations and statistics only made her feel worse.
They seem to be telling her what a failure she was.
A heart-wrenching mockery session.
Stop them please.
And yes, it was her turn finally.
The first person in class to receive that result slip and testimonials.
She intended to grab the results and go,
then hide in a corner to prepare herself for the shock.
But her eyes refused to obey her heart,
as they caught a glimpse of the printing.
NO A GRADES, her heart was popping out.
The two eye-catching D GRADES at the top made her felt like someone was tearing her apart.
The filthy grades that ruins everything.
A sense of regret ran a marathon in her brains.
Why did I come to SA?
Why did I take Econs?
Why did I choose this combination?
Why didn't I study harder?
Why am I not any smarter?
Why....
She could find no answer.
She had questioned herself before,
and she had promised herself not to dwell on them.
But the results were simply... daunting.
She used to think that getting As in A levels was just ... logical.
Seniors and friends around her, nearly all of them had As in their grades.
She blamed herself.
She scolded herself.
She hated herself.
Why am I just so damn stupid?
Why do I always disappoint my parents and myself?
She held her mobile tightly, as she hesitated to call her mother.
Plucking up her courage, she read her results to her mother.
Her mother sounded really unhappy at the other end of the line;
and she probably could tell just by the choice of words.
She had no more courage to call her father.
She was afraid to bring him disappointment too.
She texted him instead, and every alphabet on the screen felt like an insult.
He, however, was happy for her.
She felt slightly comforted, though she does not understand why.
She did not shed a tear, as she had promised herself not to.
She did try her best, she had no regrets.
But her results wasn't very telling of her efforts.
She didn't want to go home that early, though she knew that her grandparents were waiting eagerly for her results too.
She took the longest possible route home.
She counted every step she walked, and every bus stop the bus passed by.
At a short distance before reaching her house, many phone calls came in.
She was reluctant to pick them up, but she still did.
Friends and relatives called to ask for her results.
She answered them in a most diplomatic way,
predicted but not really up to standard and satisfied.
Yet they hungered for the harsh truth through their constant interrogation,
and began comparing results and reminding her how brillant others' results were.
This was the final blow.
She couldn't help but break down.