Yet again, that time of year has come around where we sit and wait anxiously for numbers on a piece of paper (or email, as the case is now). Today, at my university at least, was January exam results day.

My January exams were I mess. I was a mess. I didn’t know what happened, but I didn’t feel like I possibly could have worked hard enough, and time and time again I felt like I wanted to give up, and that it didn’t matter any more. Despite that, though, I wasn’t stressed. I didn’t have panic attacks, I slept at night, and I ate good food. It was a surreal experience for me, because that’s just not how I’ve ever taken exams. I’ve just never been chilled out about it. It was bizarre, so bizarre that I am struggling to explain.

My first exam went fantastically. I went into that exam feeling extremely prepared. I was very happy, and I came out feeling confident. That was new, too. No stress, at all.

The second was great, too. Not quite the same confidence, but still good.

The third, I was angry and frustrated about afterwards. I felt medioka before, but I didn’t think I’d have gotten a good grade. I didn’t think it would be good enough for me to stay on my course, anyway.

My last exam was a mess. I struggled to work for it, I struggled to remember the content, the exam was horrific, nobody seemed to have any similar answers, and I guessed 80% of the answers. After that exam, I cried when I got home.

I cried again a few weeks later, on a night out in a toilet with my best friend, drunk. I’d forgotten about that, it was otherwise an amazing but really very hazy evening.

I’ve had the odd thought since then, but I’ve tried to block the thought of exams out of my mind. I really and truly have tried to ignore it, and I’ve done very very well at distracting myself. I knew, especially after that last exam, that results day would ruin me. I would come crashing down, and burn, and all my hard work would be wasted, and I would feel like a failure.

This morning, I had a panic attack. This afternoon, while sat in a room with my two closest course friends, they pressured me to read the email that I had sworn that I would only read on my own.

That first exam, I got 78%. The second, 64%, the third 60%, and most shockingly of all, the fourth I got 49%. I passed them all. I averaged out at a very high 2:1, and I was absolutely over the moon. Of course, everyone wants a first, but when you are convinced you’ve failed and are about to be kicked off your degree (and I have had an extremely realistic mindset recently and know for sure that’s not just general worry and exaggeration), nobody is complaining about a 2:1. I can stay on my course, and go on placement, providing I keep it up this semester. I did really well, I shocked myself, and I was so so very happy.

My dad was perhaps not so enthusiastic. I played it down and laughed it off at the time, but later, when I was at home in the silence of my own room, I cried. I cried not only because he was less enthusiastic about my 2:1, but also because I was so shocked at myself. I did so amazingly better than I expected, and he wasn’t very enthusiastic. I’ve always relied on my parents to be enthusiastic about my grades and education, even when they couldn’t be about my other achievements. Now though, I’m not getting the 100% very best grades. University is a lot harder than A Levels, and my family don’t seem to get that. It’s heartbreaking, because everyone wants those closest to them to be proud of you.

But maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t matter so much. It hasn’t affected me as much as it would in the past. I didn’t worry about texting them, because I think (although I am a little afraid to admit it), I am proud of myself. I am proud of how far I’ve come emotionally with coping with stress, and I am proud that my work has paid off, even though I thought it hadn’t. I’d set realistic goals, and to think you haven’t achieved them is gross, but I did, and I am so very happy with that.

I guess I’m learning, at last, that paper and grades don’t define me as a whole. I want to work harder next semester to get a first. I want even more time working and to do that. But I want to do it for me, not for anyone else. My best friend has spent over five years teaching me to be proud of myself, telling me that she believes in me, and having confidence in me.

Maybe I’m finally learning. Maybe it’s time to take the self-confidence I’ve never had. It’s not easy, and I’m not there yet, but this is a massive step. She’s proud of me, and in terms of emotion and coping, I’m absolutely in shock.

I’ll go to bed tonight feeling a little confused, I will admit. I am upset that I haven’t pleased my parents, but I’m extremely happy with how I’m changing emotionally, and my results on paper. I’m glad I have friends around me to laugh and have lunch with after our results, and I’m glad that my best friend is always here for me. I can’t wait to see her again. Tonight, I really miss her. She’s done a lot more for me than she’s ever going to realise, and I just wish she was here so I could give her a hug, tell her thank you, and have a minor cry so that I can work out what the hell I’m really feeling.

Right now, I’m crying and hurting, but with a smile on my face. I don’t know if this is really me, or if I’m hiding behind a happiness mask. I’ve genuinely no idea, and it’s terrifying but liberating all at the same time. It’s new. I didn’t stress. I got 68%. It’s results day.

I think it’s okay to be a little confused today.


Rock Bottom

I’ve hit rock bottom. It’s strange, and it’s scary, and it’s a place that I’ve not been for months and months. I don’t like it, I don’t like it one bit.

I’ve been confident and happy since I came back to university. I’ve tried and I’ve worked and started every day with a positive attitude, and it has gone superbly. I cannot believe the change within myself, and I love being so happy and carefree. It’s been beautiful.

Last week, I started exams. Exams have always been a rocky subject for me. They’ve always been the thing that has ground me down and broken me into tiny pieces, crushed me so that I am no longer able to think straight, reason straight, or even eat straight. Balls of stress build in my stomach and take over me, and every second of every day is ten times harder when fighting back tears and forcing myself to eat when I feel the constant queasy sensation of nerves for weeks and weeks upon end. Spending time with other people is simply not an option, and I find myself slipping into a dark abyss, screaming and struggling for someone to rescue me.

But not this time. I’ve done very well so far. The positivity has reigned, and I’ve made it through with hunger pangs, heathly snacks, regular meals, lots of sleep, evenings with my flat mates and revision. I took my first two exams, the second of which I was extremely confident for. I’ve never gone into an exam feeling confident, or gone into an exam with no nerves at all. I was surprised, so surprised. I was struggling with tiredness before I got there, but I was confident and a day in bed didn’t seem to matter, like it would have ripped me into guilt before. It was weird.

The exam didn’t go so well, and I left in tears, my confidence crushed. That was Thursday, and I’ve still got the hardest two exams ahead of me. I feel defeated, and I’m not sure what to do. I’ve tried to carry on, but eating is getting harder, and whilst I enjoy time with my flat mates, the pit of nervous guilt I feel later has been haunting me. I’m not sleeping well, at all, and slowly but surely the familiar ache of the exam season has returned.

This evening, I hit rock bottom. I feel like I’ve fallen to the bottom of the pit. I can’t see a way out, and I know that if I took the two exams I have this week right now, I’d fail them. That’s not just the pessimist in me, that’s the whole and honest truth. And I’m terrified, because academically, I’ve never failed. My academics have been something I’ve been able to rely on, results, whilst terrifying, a strange familiarity in my often crazy life.

Now, I’m not so sure, and for the last few hours at least, I’ve not been coping. I’m not sure how to change that, and I know I won’t wake up tomorrow being the confident one again. The pit is back, the fear is back, the guilt is back, and I have no motivation. I can’t make myself work, because it’s then that I remind myself of just how little I know. I’m very very afraid, and I wish there was someone who could help me.

I’ve realised that I’m very alone. In my waves of confidence, I’ve forgotten how to speak out to those who mean the most to me. I need to talk to my best friend, and I thought I had tried but I’m not sure that I have. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough, maybe she too was fooled by my recent waves of confidence and thinks this is just a wobble. Maybe she’s just busy.

I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel about this. Life isn’t as easy when your confidence is gone, and I don’t like being rock bottom.

Five days and two exams to go.

Help me, I’m terrified.


It’s late, and really I should be going to sleep. I have an important meeting tomorrow night, and the hairdressers and dentist early tomorrow morning. I can’t lounge in bed all day tomorrow.

But I’m here, because I’m upset. To be quite frank, I’m simply exhausted. I’m conflicted, and combined with hormones and stress, it’s proved to be a little too much.

I love university, I can’t wait to get back, and after what happened in my house tonight I just want to go back.

But only a couple of days ago I didn’t want to go back, and even tonight when someone mentioned university I was choking back the tears of wanting to stay at home.

My house may be hell sometimes and my family may struggle, but all my safe zones are near my home. My school, my old teachers, my flute teachers, my best friends, and Guiding leaders. Some of those safe zones are gone – teachers have moved on, ex students have to have an escort into school, and I only see my flute teacher a few times a year. But they’re still there. They still kept me safe while I was at home, and now, I have nothing. At university, I have friends, but nobody I can truly rely on. There’s nobody there who can help me or who I trust, and so I put on the best smile I can and have as much fun as I can. But it’s still hard, I still struggle with stress and social situations but I do it without support.

But university is an escape from the four walls of my house and the arguments that happen within it. It’s a chance at independence, a fresh start, and an oppportunity to be whoever I want to be. It’s a laugh, and it’s new. It’s different, which is hard, but it’s also amazing fun!

Still, with less than two weeks until I go back to university, I’m not sure how to feel. I wish I could just be normal. I wish I could be like the others and overexcited to get back to uni, itching to get a house and have fun with friends who I haven’t seen in so long. But I’m not that person. I’m not a normal teenager, and even that is something which I’m struggling to accept.

I need a hug. I need a friend. I’m feeling very lonely, and most of all I just want to feel normal.

Please stand by me, I need you by my side. I need to know it’s okay, and whilst I’m too afraid to ask you, and to seem so silly when you’re having so much fun, I need to be reassured. I need the same reassurance you gave me when I was breaking, because I’m afraid this year may leave me broken, and I’ve got far too many ambitions for that.

A Busy Summer

It’s been a busy summer. A summer filled with a new job, lots of volunteering, fun, excitement, laughter, tears and memories. I’ve been tired, and I’ve worn myself out. Many times, this two month break since I wrote my last post hasn’t been from lacking the inclination, but simply just that sleep took priority. Other times though, I’ve needed to blog, but I simply could not find the words or the heart, like I was frozen, and I couldn’t allow my brain to write because then those things that were spinning in my brain would become true.

I’ve had many a sleepless night, just thinking and worrying. I’ve always been a worrier, and nothing will ever change that. I simply care too much to stop the worrying. People, places and memories just mean too much, and that makes me feel safe. I don’t really want to change. While worrying can be accompanied by fun and friendship, I have no need to change. This is who I am, and I don’t want to hide it anymore. At least, I don’t want to hide it from myself, everyone else is a different matter entirely.

This summer though, has been awesome. My job has pulled in a couple of hundred pounds a week. I’ve organised a camping trip as part of my Queen’s Guide, I helped at a Guide camp that was short of leaders, I volunteered at a county Guide day and took my Rainbows to a county day, I did my first week as a volunteer at a kids summer camp I used to adore, I spent copious amounts of time wth friends, I’ve caught up on my flute lessons and my grade eight is slowly drifting into sight. I’ve still got more fun to come! I’m running a meeting for my own Rainbows, I’m organising a fun day for 60 kids, and of course, I’m going to Scotland to see my best friend. I am beyond excited!

I’m a little nervous too though. I’m worried that I won’t be organised enough to get everything done. I’m afraid that in just over two week’s time when I go back to university, I won’t be ready. I’m worried that things will go wrong. But I have a million other worries too, about everyone else in my life. But I’m sure it’ll be okay, because everything works out okay in the end. I was less than 1% away from a 1st last year, and so just by working a tiny bit harder, I have the potential to achieve something that I want so badly.

And that positivity is new. I’ve never really been postive, but the fact that I’m learning to gives me hope, and hope is what keeps us alive.

Good Luck

Luck. It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Personally, I’m not really convinced that it’s a thing at all. Of course, there are times when something that seemed very unlikely happens, but I prefer to call it chance. Luck somehow implies that you had an onus on it, and that there was something about you that made it happen. There wasn’t. We all know that, it was pure coincidence.

I guess it’s even more bizarre then that we wish each other luck, as though it is a thing that a person can possess. You can’t get lucky in an exam, you either know the content or you don’t. There’s no luck about it, so surely wishing each other luck is silly?

Today, I was stressing. I looked in the mirror and whispered ‘You’re going to be fine, I promise’. I burst into tears. You see, those are the words that my best friend used to say to me before an exam. She’s not going to be here to do that tomorrow when I take my first university exam of first year summer, and I won’t be there to smile and whisper back ‘thanks, you too’. You see, while I may have only said those words in the mirror today, they were always said after the words ‘good luck’ when we were at school. They meant a lot to me, and they gave me one last chance to smile before I walked into the exam hall and desperately tried to get hold of my breathing.

Now, I’ve just told you that I don’t believe in luck as a concept, so why would those words mean so much? To me, they’re not that. They’re not ‘luck’ and they’re never going to be some special power that makes the exam go perfectly. But they’re still something, and they’re still words that rattle my heart a little and make a difference to me. To me, ‘good luck’ means ‘I’m here with you. You’ll be okay, even if the exam doesn’t go okay, it’s not the end of the world and I’ll be your friend no matter what.’ When said by my best friend, ‘good luck’ means ‘I’m your friend and I love you.’ Most of all, those words mean ‘I believe in you, even if you don’t believe in yourself’. Belief is something that I’ve always struggled with, and the problems of stress have always haunted me, but just for a second, she could make the pain and worry go away with those simple words. ‘Good luck, you’ll be fine. I promise.’ – they echo in my head, they’ll echo in my head tomorrow, but it’s not right when she’s not here to say them.

Sure, other people might say them. I hate it when my parents say them. That makes me panic. That means ‘you’d better do well or we’ll be disappointed’ and it doesn’t feel loving in the slightest so I get nervous. When other people wish me luck, people who care about me for me, not my grades, it makes my heart flip. It makes me feel a little safer. It’s strange, it’s probably not normal, but it helps. Anything that helps me through exams is important.

Tonight I will text my best friend just before I sleep and wish her luck for her exam in the morning, even though she’s five hundred miles away. I’ll tell her that I love her. Tomorrow, I’ll text my final year friend and wish her the same. In the morning, I’ll put on my swallow necklace and subconsciously touch my ‘believe’ friendship bracelet. I’ll do my deep breathing and in the afternoon, I’ll take my exam, too. Perhaps someone will wish me luck; they probably won’t. Perhaps somebody out there will think to text me, or call me, to make sure that I’m okay. Perhaps somebody will remind me to breathe and tell me to take my time. They probably won’t. I don’t have my favourite teachers anymore. Maybe my best friend will be thinking about me tomorrow, just like I’ll be thinking about her. She probably won’t, she’ll probably be way too stressed.

But I just hope that it’s okay. I hope that someone out there believes in me, because as I climbed into bed tonight, the tears started to fall. I’m absolutely terrified, and I wish someone could be standing by my side, ideally physically, but on compromise, virtually will do. Just a few sentences, a few seconds, a text message changes everything.

Good luck. Two little words that completely change my outlook and therefore the outcome of an exam.

I hope someone out there believes in me, and I promise to use every last part of me to try and believe in myself.

When I Grow Up

The last few days have been a struggle. The reality of exams has kicked in and it’s hit me, like I thought it would. This year has been a little different to the last few though. I’ve lived a life of lies, pretending that I’m okay, trying to be positive. I’ve done well. Most of the time, I’ve even convinced myself that I’m okay. Clearly though, I’m not, and the tears shed in the last few days demonstrate that pretty well.

This morning, I made a decision. Ironically, that decision had me listening to Matilda again, specifically ‘When I Grow Up’. Because I’ve decided that when I grow up, I won’t be like my parents are. A friend told me this morning that the world is bigger than university and exams so it doesn’t matter if you fail.

But it matters. Of course it matters, for so many reasons. I can’t fail. It’s difficult to put into words why, and why exams have always called me so much stress. I’ve never understood why I need to work so hard and achieve so highly. I’ve never been able to voice it, or explain to it to concerned teachers.

But in reality, I’ve always understood, haven’t I? Of course I have.

But when I grow up, I won’t be like my parents. When I grow up, I won’t put pressure on my children. Of course I’ll encourage them to try, to work, to put in effort, but I won’t ever allow myself to make my children feel how my parents have made me feel. I don’t want them to feel that I am putting pressure on them. When I grow up, I want my children to know that I’ll be proud of them for trying their best, regardless of if their best is an A or an E, a grade eight music exam or scoring a goal at football, giving a speech or saying their promise as a Rainbow, going to university or working in a local shop, inventing something that changes the world or overcoming a fear. I will be proud of them no matter what, as long as they try their best. It doesn’t need to be academic, it doesn’t need to help their university application, and it doesn’t need to earn them money. Because my children won’t just be a letter or a number or a percentage. My children will be people. Just like I am.

To my parents, I may not be a person. I may be a grade, or an expectation, but I’m learning that I’m so much more than that. I am a Rainbow leader, I am a volunteer for a children’s summer camp charity, I am someone who loves to draw, I am someone who cried with happiness after getting a merit in a flute exam, I am someone who would stay up all night if my best friend needed me to, I am someone who wants to cure cancer, I am someone who wants to watch the sunrise, I am someone who wants to run a half marathon, I am someone who wants to overcome my fears, I am someone who is excited to go to turkey next year with her best friend, I am someone who wants to learn basic piano and publish a children’s book.

Yes, I want a 1st or a 2:1 in my degree. But I must not let that define me. Because I am so much more than that. I am someone who tries their best, I am someone who cares for others, I am someone who has hopes and dreams, memories and photographs. I am someone who smiles and cries, just like everyone else.

I am someone that actually felt the need to add to her bucket list ‘take an exam without stressing’. I’m not sure if I will ever be able to. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to escape the expectations that my parents have set and the pressure that they have applied. But I’m going to try. I always try my best, and this won’t be any different.

Because when I grow up, I want my children to feel valued for who they are, and how can I teach them to do that if I don’t value myself?

So yes, perhaps I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself. But I’ve always been desperate to please my parents, and this is the only way I’ve been able to. When I grow up, I want to value myself for who I am. I want people to be proud of me for who I am, and not what is written on a piece of paper. It’s going ot take work, but I hope there’s people out there who care enough to help me.

When I grow up, I will be smart enough to answer all the questions that you need to know the answers to before you’re grown up. When I grow up, I will eat sweets everyday on the way to work and I will go to bed late every night. And I will wake up when the sun comes up and I’ll watch cartoons until my eyes go square and I won’t care because I’ll be all grown up.

Because even if you’re little you can do a lot. You mustn’t let a little thing like little stop you. And my kids won’t. Because they will be people. They won’t be grades. When they grow up, they’ll be exactly who they want to be and who they can be. Their best will always be enough for me, and nothing you can say will change that.

Saying Goodbye and Heading Home

I said my goodbyes, and one by one I moved around the flats, hugging each person in turn. The last person to say goodbye to was the girl who at the start of semester, I adored, and I thought that we’d go on to be really good friends. Recently, she’s not been talking to me, and it has knocked me down a lot. I must have done something wrong, and I was gutted. This girl had my name for Secret Santa though, and she bought me the cutest and most thoughtful present. That’s weird, talk about mixed messages! Last night, I decided that instead of sitting alone, I should join in with the group games. I did, and it was the best night of the semester! Later on, after smiling and laughing all night, I dropped her a text, to apologise for being antisocial as of recent, some bad things had happened, and I’d really enjoyed the evening. She text back the cutest reply, and I was smiling once again. I still think her actions have been very odd, but then, maybe mine have a little too, and regardless of the situation, I still think she’s very trustworthy. So, today, when I said my goodbyes I turned to hug her, but first, I smiled. She smiled back, and pulled me into a hug that was just a little bit tighter than all the others, and very quickly and discretely rubbed my back. ‘Thank you’, I whispered. ‘Make sure you have a fantastic Christmas’, she replied. It’s strange, and I probably shouldn’t see it as positive, and it’s me probably being just a little too hopeful, but it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I’ve said my goodbyes, we had a floor Christmas dinner, society parties, and a Thursday night out for someone’s birthday. Now, I’ve climbed onto the train home, and I’m very very excited. Surprisingly, I’m a little sad to be leaving the university, even though I’ve never really felt like I fit in. The feeling is mixed however, with the fact that I’ll be going home, I’m seeing my family, I’m helping at Rainbows, I’m visiting Rangers and school, I’m meeting my best friend for coffee and my other friends for dinner. There’s good food, Christmas cheer, and revision to look forward to.

I’m feeling very very content, and it’s beautiful. I won’t work on this journey, but I will smile, and live with the knowledge that in three hours, I’ll be home again.

Socially Awkward

It’s time to admit the truth. I’m socially awkward, and I hate it. It’s embarrassing. Most people don’t realise how much of a problem this issue can be, and will see it as a person perhaps being shy, or stupid, or just hating their current situation. It’s not like that though, it’s just not that simple.

I try. Genuinely, I really do try to make friends and socialise. I seem to relate well to people much younger or older than me, but for some reason, those of my own age can be a little tricky. I’ve always gravitated towards the leaders at things like Guides, and often, I’d turn to my teachers at school. I love entertaining my little Rainbows, and the kids at Science Club.

When I first moved to university, it all seemed surprisingly easy. Talking was fine, I was getting on with people, and I found that there was one person who I particularly liked. I was happy. It was much easier to fit in than I expected it to be. October came and went, and that’s when things started to change. Real friendship groups started to form, I started to work out which of my flat mates I did and didn’t like, and everyone else did the same. It seems that sadly, our opinions differed a little, and now the girl who I admired for the first few weeks barely talks to me.

There’s a girl who I chat to in orchestra, but I can’t even remember her name. The people at SSAGO are lovely, but I don’t ever expect to find a friendship there that will last outside of our meetings. As for my course, there’s a little group of us. We get on well, but we don’t really socialise, as such. There’s one girl in that group who I’m particularly drawn to, and she’s rather excited to meet my best friend when she visits, too. But now, I’m not really sure what to do. Can I ask just her to meet for coffee? I don’t know, it’s all very confusing, and feels rather unnatural.

Things were so easy with my best friend, but then, I do feel like she’s the only person I’ve ever really been able to socialise with. Her, and another girl, who I’ve known since primary school days (but even then, we’ve sadly drifted apart in recent years).

In all, I feel rather lonely here, so far from home. I have my activities in the evenings, and now that my flat mates prefer to go out on a week night instead of a Saturday, I don’t really get a chance to be social. I struggle to make conversation, and I just feel a bit like everyone here thinks I’m weird. To be honest, they’re probably right.

I’m not shy, and I’m not stupid. I may have been a shy child, but I talk a lot more now, and always feel like I know what to say. But it’s strange, it’s as though I lack an innate knowledge that everyone else has on how to make friends. Even when I feel like things are going well, they reject me. It hurts, because I really am trying. It’s a little scary, too, I guess. I just don’t fit in the way that everyone else does. I’m lost.

I don’t socialise with boys either. That’s strange. I expected that to change when I got to university, but it hasn’t really. Outside of my floor, I haven’t really spoken to anyone of the opposite sex. Not only did the girls on my course seem to gravitate together (many have boyfriends already), I find guys even more difficult to understand than girls.

It’s a strange little place, my brain. It’s hard to explain how it feels, because when I meet people or spend time with people, I don’t feel like I’m doing the wrong thing. To me, it feels like I’m going about it exactly the right way. I can’t be though, or I’d be a lot more settled by now, right? I’d have friends, and I’d feel like I’d found my place here?

But I haven’t. I haven’t even found a place in Guiding. Guiding was my saviour at home, but there’s no Rainbows here, and it’s just not the same leading Guide age.

Rapidly Changing Emotions

After two and a half hours curled in bed, crying into a book, I decided that it was time to get up, make dinner, and give the stats test a go. There’s nothing I can do now about my late assignment, so I just have to move on. Worrying about it won’t make things get any better, especially not with how rubbish and fragile I’m feeling as of recent, anyway. It’s less than two weeks until I go home for christmas and see my best friend, so that’s what I’ve got to focus on.

My dinner was amazing, and so I felt pretty ready to tackle stats. It took a lot longer than I expected, and I’m CONVINCED that one of the questions didn’t have any options with the right answer, which in turn made the next two questions impossible to answer, but again, there’s not much I can do. I found a few friends had had the same problem, so again, I’ve emailed, and I pray that email will resolve everything.

On the bright side, I did find out that two more of my friends also had the same issue with submitting their ethics assignment, and they didn’t realise until seven hours after it was due. We’ve all sent emails begging for forgiveness, and whilst I was far to afraid to go alone, we’ve decided that we’ll go and see the lecturer tomorrow to explain properly. Maybe it’ll get fixed.

So, that was a bit of a rambling update, but it feels good to get things written down in a logical order. Next stops: washing up, my last chai, pjs, and my book until bedtime. I was going to work late tonight, but crying is exhausting. It must be better to be well rested and work hard tomorrow.

I miss my best friend, but Friday will be here soon. I can’t contact her, she’s got lots and lots to do. That’s a fair point, I should probably start researching what we can do when she visits in January! Seven weeks today, oh my, I’m so excited!

That Mistake Will Cost Me First Year

Crap. I’m sorry, but there’s no other word for it right now. I submitted my ethics assignment last week, a good five days early, and then I forgot about it. Or at least, that’s what I thought I’d done.

It turns out that in reality, I hadn’t done that. And that mistake could cost me first year. Although it’s not a graded piece, I do have to get a pass mark in order to pass the unit, and now I’m sat here with my head on my desk sobbing, because I can’t pass.

They’ve said it a thousand times: late work doesn’t get marked. You get zero. End of. No debates.

But I thought I’d submitted it, I really did, but somehow, I missed the second submit button, and had actually only uploaded it as a draft. Someone mentioned in a lecture this morning that it had been a little odd, and whilst I tried to rectify my mistake, I couldn’t because the online system was down.

I’ve just finally found it and clicked the second submit button, but it’s over three hours late. I’ve emailed to beg for forgiveness, but I know it will not be granted, because this isn’t school.

I’ve got to take the stats test this afternoon, but there’s no way that I can right now. I’m a mess. I put in far too much work to get to university, and now I’ve gone and fucked up the whole thing with one simple mistake. I’m so angry, and nothing that I can do will make it better. I can’t remember the last time that I was this upset and worked up, and there’s nobody here to fix it anymore. I’m all on my own.

At this rate, I’ll fail stats, too. But then, does it matter now? They’re the same unit, so if I’ve already messed it up, a little more won’t harm? I’ve been mid panic attack for at least ten minutes and I just can’t slow my breathing. I’m going to faint soon if I’m not careful.

Why is it always me? Why do I fail at everything, every single time?