The post where I wrote what I didn't want to say.

Don't worry. I'm not going to rant.

It's more of a venting...

Fact is that I'm ten days away from my last exam. I wish I could say last exam ever, but since I don't know if that is the case, I decided to rather not be the die-hard optimist. Anyway...

That's not what I want to go into. I'll go into it when I'm really really back. Right now I'm more of a I'm hiding out from my other responsibilities back. Which is why I must keep this post short.

If I write too much, things are going to come out that would serve me better tightly caged. So...

Sometimes I hate thinking. In stead of making things clearer, thinking muddles everything up. Like worrying about what happens next.

There. See? I did it again. I freaking can't stop. It's like trying to stop a runaway train with a penny.

Right now, not thinking is taking so much concentration that I can't really think about anything else.

Not a good state in which to find myself when I have to finish my exams.

Not that it matters. Since my economics happened again. This time slightly differently, but with the exact same effect. Well... not exactly the same. I got two poems (I think) out of it. In two languages.

Did I get a degree out of it?

A most emphatic no. See... when you write your predicate test in October and suddenly draw a complete blank (and I do mean complete) remaining calm to get through the work with a miraculous second chance just isn't as possible as people seem to think. I studied for five weeks this time. I gave up my NaNo aspirations in order to get through the work. I did everything I could. 

I kept myself together admirably if I say so myself, even when I knew I wasn't nearly prepared enough to feel good about writing. I sat down and turned the page. 

And... Nothing. Not a single solitary thing registered. I sat through an hour and a half out of three, trying to recall what I knew. I wrote two poems just to calm down enough to think. Nothing... Actually I think I wrote the poems just to create noise. It felt strange to be the only person in the room except the invigilator that wasn't writing. 

In some sort bleak irony, that was the first time in months that my mind went completely quiet. 

Not that peaceful, calming quiet with running water and laughing children in the distance. I'm talking about that eerie roaring silence you get after a bomb went off close by. 

I think that I wrote "Sorry" in the answer sheet.

Maybe.

I can't remember. 

Oh my word I wasn't even going to write about this. I was going to mope fore a bit about how I can't study because I want to write, but can't write because I need to study. Something like that. But I guess this had to get out.

I haven't told anyone yet. Everyone is assuming that there is hope, but refusing to talk about it. No one except for me, and now you, know how badly it really went. I just can't deal with telling them. Maybe I'm a coward now.

Still... I feel a lot better now. It isn't ruling my thoughts as much as before. So I can maybe pull myself together enough to get through the next ten days or so until I can face up to what I had allowed to happen to me and to the repercussions of it all.

But not right now. Now, I have to knuckle down and finish what I can.