Today, I learnt that I failed a maths midterm. I’m on such a great streak, as I’m so very much aware.
My hands are trembling from either the caffeine in my drink or the disappointment in myself failing that test. I know that I should already get past this, but I can’t fully express this profound feeling of failure.
It’s only one test. A test that has mangled my grade.
It’s just a grade. A grade that matters immensely given how much my family is putting at stake paying for my attendance in this college.
That’s actually something that had been running through my mind as I left the room and depressingly walked off my shame. I kept thinking to myself during the exam about how I needed to drop this course. How it would be my only escape. But how could I explain that to my parents. How could I get myself to say those words. I guess my worst fear is their reaction, regardless of whatever it’d be. I don’t want them to know that their child has become so vulnerable and broken in this new life. I don’t want to disappoint them because I’ve already asked of them so much. I don’t want to find out what they’d think of me–of what anyone who knows me well would think of me. I’ve just come to know of my own fragility.