Not exactly the best day of my life, last Friday. Two years of reassurance and a conviction that everything would snake and burrow its way to a happy ending…I wouldn’t say shattered, for that would be a tad extreme, would it not? But I would say it was grotesquely bent and twisted out of shape.

Perhaps not the kind of closure I’d dreamt it to be. I dreamed of overjoyed flinging of arms around someone, anyone; the squealing and jumping in tearful euphoria. I imagined us, together, ridiculously, genuinely happy to look in the eyes of other people and give a celebratory grin. Selfish, surely, but I wanted to be the one afraid to ask, not the one afraid to be asked. I didn’t want a lump in my throat, or the butterflies that continued to flutter long after I glimpsed and quickly put away my result slip, as if putting it away into that cheesy paperbag would help me put it away in my head too, for the day. I didn’t want to involuntarily shy away from people bound to ask me. I didn’t want to have to stomach any sort of bitterness. On Thursday night, I pictured myself on a real high, all gung-ho about staying out, breathing in the witching hour, free and content.

If only I could have just let it go, with a good and strong satisfaction that this is what I came here for, and this is what I got. It would have been a sheer relief to leave all that apprehension and uncertainty behind. Simplicity, if you view it that way, was what I really asked for. But it’s not simple. I left Friday half high, half low, lost. It’s complicated for me. Maybe you can’t see it. Don’t assume if you’re not in any place to. I know exactly why I feel this way. And it kind of sucks.

I hate having people ask, I hate having explain to those who don’t know what H1 and H2 and H3 mean. I could put it simply, I missed an A, but I don’t find any justification in that. I can’t find any justification in people giving me sympathy I don’t rightly deserve. I know my results are good. Excellent. Whatever people like to say. If you put me in the same context as everyone else, I should be perfectly happy. Well, I’m not. I know why. But I also hate explaining why everything is such a big deal to me.

Well. Unimportant since it’s all over, right? JTB, right? I’ll have to take some time.