What a cheery title for my first actual post in months. Why am I writing about this when I didn't write abut any of the wonderful events that have transpiried during this same period? I guess because writing has always been my favourite form of venting, and Lord knows I need to vent now.
I could tell you about all the things that went wrong that week, but I won't because none of these matter. I could tell you about the fact that I did really well on every single assignment leading up to the midterm, and that I'm as shocked as the next person that my TA was so repulsed by my answers, but I won't. And if you're expecting me to go off on a tangent about how I fundamentally disagree with exams because they try to quantify something that can't be quantified, you'll be disappointed because I'm not going to: in fact, I think exams are as good a way as any of trying to gauge how well someone has grapsed the course material.
What I am going to tell you though, is that this hurts: it hurts far more than I thought that something like this would. Maybe it's because this is the first exam that I've ever failed. Maybe it's because I knew exactly what I'd done wrong literally 20 seconds after I handed the test in, or it could be any of the many, many other reasons I feel like I have a tennis ball stuck in my throat. Maybe it's none (or all) of these; the wound is too fresh for me to tell you. But I do know that through the swirling shitstorm of feelings that are threatening to burst my chest open, one hurts the most: I choked, and I don't know why.