The Final Battle— A True Story

It was the 5th of March. The schedule had arrived, and heartbeats around the world had quickened as all eyes focused on the date sheet. 1 month to go.

Eh, never mind. There was still a month, and seeing how extremely capable I was, I’d be able to prepare in less than a week.

— — —

It was the next day. The syllabus was here. For the second time, hearts quickened and breaths were held back as eyes skimmed through the syllabus.

10 chapters. Each subject. 14 subjects.

I bit my lip, pressed my eyes shut and prayed this was all a dream.

One peak.

Still alive? Well, one can hope.

There were 10 chapters, 14 subjects and just one month to go. So, if I did 2 chapters today and then….

Sorry, my bad. I tend to forget that I’m not good at maths.

— — —

It was a peaceful morning. The sun hit my face, definitely not gently as a groan escaped my mouth, not wanting to leave my bed this early. School, school, school. I don't think I’ve ever despised anything as much as I despise going to school. I mean, don’t take me wrongly. I actually love school. What I don’t love is waking up at 6:30 every single morning to study things I never ever wanted to stud in the first place.

Wait, today’s the 21st of march, which means… Oh wow, I haven't got school today. See, these are the moments when I love school. I mean, randomly giving students holidays 2 days before exams is very considerate if you ask m-

2 days before exams.

I jumped out of my bed, suddenly reminded of the fact that I practically haven’t studied anything. Wait, that’s not true. I have studied, that is, if reading every chapter one time counts.

Oh for heaven’s sake-

I need to study. Now. Fast.

— — — -

So. I just gave my first paper today.

How was it, you may ask?

Well, according to my current standards, pretty good.

Now, what’s my standard for good?

Losing 15 marks.

Not bad.

Not bad, right?


— — — -

I spy with my little eye, someone who wants to crawl into her bed and die.

Found her.

Today was the last paper; History.

Normally, I should be happy. Ecstatic, actually. The past 2 weeks of absolute hell are finally over.

1 week of holiday now before the new term.



Not fun. Not at all fun when all you can do this entire week is worry about the report card your parents are going to get by the end of it.

Seem fun yet?

— — — —

You know, I was just thinking, a vey rare occurrence one may say, and I realized that I shouldn’t be scared of the report card. Oh yes, marks don’t define me. Maybe I got less marks this year, but the entire year was online, and studying online is a whole another task. Not that I’d use this excuse to justify my marks, I’ve got another one for that. I’m simply dumb.

Yeah, can’t argue that, can ya?

But wait-


I was never scared of the report card. I was scared of the people who’re going to receive it. My parents.

My great parents.

He he

So, um, remember the rant I just made about report cards and marks. Well, I’d appreciate if you did me a favor and explained all of that to my parents.

Yeah, no?

Alright I understand, hope you have a shitty day as well.

— — — -

Releasing in your neighborhood cinemas in 3 days.

I may not be alive by then.

But if I am-

Well I won’t be.

“My parents don’t press it but, you know they’re into good grades”

-Lucy Deakins, American Attorney




Welcome to my safe world, where I write about anything and everything till it makes sense to me

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