The grades have been posted. Shivers ran down my spine for I knew that this is the moment of truth. For the first time in my life, there is a part of me that believes in uncertainty. For the first time in my life, I doubted my abilities. But still, there is that bigger part of me that says “definitely, I will not fail”.
I was hesitant, yet I proceeded to type in the address of the university’s grade query site. It won’t load. I repeatedly clicked the refresh button in hope that I could see my judgement. But as I raped the refresh button in frustration, I felt a different gust of wind that blows into my body; cold, frightening, disgusting.
“I can’t open the website. Can you help me?”
She was offline for a few minutes. Every second that passed is a torture. I wondered if she ditched me or something. But why would she do that?
I received a message. As of this moment, it’s like the Schrodinger’s cat, my mark is both passing and failing. But no matter how much I know about quantum mechanics, this is higher mathematics. This is logic and reasoning. And as i opened the proverbial box of Schrodinger, a nauseating stench of death welcomed me. Worse, there are two dead cats, not just one.
I have no idea what to do. I just sat there in front of the computer, speechless, teary eyed. My heart pounds harder, and heavier. It was the first time in my entire life that I have experienced such academic failure. One is a little tolerable, but two? What the fuck have I done in the previous semester to deserve those grades? I feel like I’m the dumbest man in the world.
I was frustrated. I knew I could give much more. But I knew to myself that I don’t deserve those grades. I recalled every event that happened, every single detail that would suggest that I deserve my failure. But as I reminisce, the thought of me having those failing grades, though I tried hard to deny, slowly sunk into me.
I went to my bed, tried not to cry. But my chest felt so heavy. Then the consequences of my failure came into my realization. My scholarship: terminated, my clean transcript of records: stained, and my collegiate standing: irregular.
That’s it. That filled the bowl of emotion that I kept empty since I was a child.
For the first time in my life, I tasted the bitter flavor of tears.