A Level Results day.
It’s also my dad’s birthday (little shout out – you should buy him a present) but I’m scared that I will be singing Happy Birthday in between sporadic sobs while clutching my tear-stained results in one hand. Admittedly, that’s probably the worst case scenario.
I don’t understand how to cope though. Roughly two months in between your last exam and the day when you get to find out if you’ve screwed up your life. I can’t handle that kind of pressure.
The hours after your last exam: YES. FREEDOM FINALLY. Buh-bye school, don’t need you anymore. Summer begins – time for sex, drugs, and rock and roll; or more accurately, Netflix, existential crises, and Broadway musical soundtracks.
The days after your last exam: lads, lads lads; bois, bois, bois; sick, sick, sick; shots, shots shots; Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Rubay (ahhh ahhh ah ahh ahh ahhhhh).
The week after your last exam: skipping down the street, occasional heel clicks as you go, donning your fedora to the local older ladies, swinging around lampposts, singing in the rain. Life is a musical from the 1950s.
A month after your last exam, and the stress starts to creep in. You realise how much time you have now – you can go out every single day and every night, so why, instead of revising during study leave, did you take days off between exams to fritter your revision time away on day trips to Stratford? Because you’re a terrible person, that’s why.
The week before results day: time for desperate backup plans. All principles are abandoned as aspiring scientists research into converting to mormonism and pacifists look into joining the army. Everyone has accepted their inevitable failure and are frantically looking for shovels with which to dig themselves out of their procrastination-saturated holes.
The night before results day. They say there’s no such thing as an atheist on their deathbed – the same goes for atheists before results day. “Dear God, please forgive me for spending study leave binge-watching Rick and Morty on repeat. Forsake me not and allow my results paper to contain letters from the start of the alphabet. Please and thank you. Amen.”
And finally, results day…
And sorry but idk what will happen: whether you will have passed or if you’ll need to become a mormon missionary or get a full-time job at Build-a-Bear. Depends if you actually revised as much as you should have done instead of memorising the monologue from the start of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
And on that note, I’m going to close my Netflix window and wrap up this blog post and, at least, attempt to revise.
You might want to join me.