I'm just sixteen, just turned sixteen 3 weeks ago. And yet we're all sticking our toes into the ocean, just to see if it bites back with the cold we all braced ourselves for.
I have a Literature AA due in roughly eight hours, and I plan to devote every one of those hours to this AA. Because I feel like I have to. Because I can't focus, so I'm going to need every one of those hours to propel me forward, not turn around and bite my head off.
Today I realised that I was not put into B ban by merit at all. In fact, by meritocracy I belong somewhere at the end of the A ban. Seriously.
And of course, there's so much at stake at this point, Chinese is the least of my worries.
I cannot write. I cannot write, I now understand what Cheryl Foo meant when she said it was HARD to write. It's not hard, it's excruciatingly painful. The words don't fit.