I changed the date thing that is downstairs in the dining room. Now it’s Friday the 18th May. It’s really scary. My last exam is on Tuesday the 19th June. One month and one day away and it’ll all be over. The thing I’ve been working for all my life... the finish of school, the freedom.
How torturous is it that when you do your exams, you have in mind a place to go… you know that you need certain grades… and you need to wait two months before you know if you can go there or not… it’s so scary that your life depends on a piece of paper… I’m doing four A-Levels. From any of those four, I need a C and two Ds. It’s really scary that some people would be like, “Heh, a C and 2 Ds? I could get that if I was blindfolded during the exam!” and then there’s me, who’s like… “Please, I’d really like three Cs, it’d be so nice… and three Bs would be absolutely amazing!” I’d love three Bs. I would be absolutely ecstatic with three Bs. If I got three Bs, I’d wonder who marked my exam paper, I’d be scared that they’d contact me in a few weeks and say, “Sorry, we made a mistake, the names got swapped round. You actually got three Ds.” It was like when I got double A* in science for GCSE… I was certain they’d made a mistake, but I got the certificate through, and that said double A* too… I’d be happy with three Cs. But my dream would be to get three Bs. I doubt it would happen though. That’s my problem.. too low self-esteem. I hardly ever believe I’ll do well, because I’m scared of being disappointed.
I thought I did really well in my history trial exam… praying that I might even get a B. I got a D. I was really upset with that, because I was sure I did well. Being told that you actually did really badly is a huge blow.
But then… I was ill during the trial exam period. All during the two weeks of exams, I was sniffling and coughing and sneezing away… feeding myself with Galloway’s and hoping that I would be able to get around to some revision. But not being up to it, and sitting around watching Disney films instead.
Two months after finishing exams... yeah we can get drunk and have a good time, but as with the GCSE results, for the couple of weeks before the results are published, I’ll be in hell, thinking the worst, hoping I did well enough to get into Brunel, hoping that even if I did really bad I could still get into Middlesex and what would happen if I ended up with all Es? I’d be devastated. But hopefully it would be okay. Then the night before I went to collect them, I’d have a practically sleepless night, having nightmares about failing everything… just like I did the night before collecting GCSEs. I dreamt that I got an A in maths, but all my other results were Ns and Us. I did get an A in maths, and 5 other results were an A or better. The other four were Bs. No Ns or Us.
I have to concentrate on Maths this year, hopefully I’ll get a decent mark, even though I’m bound to flunk the P2 paper. If I get really good marks on the other papers, maybe they’ll top up my score a bit. Like if I got say, 80% on the three papers (Unlikely, I know), and only 40% on P2… that would be 70%.. which would I think be a B. Maybe. Heh.. yeah right! I’d be lucky. Or I’d be someone else. I’ll concentrate on the stuff in P2 I’d be able to do, but stuff differentiating and integrating trigonometry… that’s just evil! All I know is that sinx differentiates to cosx. But I could even be wrong with that. And cosx differentiates to –sinx which is probably also wrong. Thank god for a formula book!
As for integration…. Let’s not go there!
Hmm… so in just over a month, it’s all over… and I can drink and be merry, or plastered. Apparently the weekly recommended alcohol dosage for a woman is 7 units. The other night, I had 16. Ooops. :-) Silly me. :-) Oh well, it was fun at the time. :-)
Helen said something to me in an email yesterday… basically she told me what was going on in her life and her head… and apologised for uploading it on me, as she couldn’t tell the diary. Isn’t that odd? Well, not really, I’ve found the same thing… you just can’t tell your public diary some things. I mean, I remember writing something in my private diary, the notepad one I keep every now and then, and then when I read back on it, I was like… no I can’t keep that in there, so I tippexed out the page. I think I did that with two pages. I can remember what one of them was, but not the other one. But as I did them on the same day, I know that I had nothing really to worry about by removing the other one, as the one I do remember was really bad… Well, extremely embarrassing and forthright. Something I wouldn’t want my descendants to read. You know, the ultra-taboo subjects there are all around us.
It was good to get in touch with Helen again. I told her about the phonecall I received yesterday, and I’m still extremely pissed off about it, and still going to the police about it. And giving names. People can’t go around thinking that they can make malicious phone calls when it suits them. It was scary, it was upsetting, distracting, worrying. I was scared to go out, scared to go to school today to pick up vital information to do with my exams. Had to get one of my true friends at school to pick it up for me, and I’m going to meet her tonight and pick it up from her. She’s a true friend. Apart from Helen and co, Liz is the only person I can trust at that school. I thought I could trust Becca. I thought I could trust her with my phone number. I thought I could trust her to be a friend. It’s sad how you never really know someone.
To be honest, I don’t care anymore. It’s nearly exams… and what would be next? A long holiday, then results, and then I can quit my job at Gala, and go on holiday with Dad and co. to Holland. Spend lots of time with Jonathan, spend lots of time with true friends… at least when I meet people on the internet, I know them better. When you know people in real life.. I don’t know, it’s hard to put it across. I know there are weirdos on the internet, but I also know that there are very nice people on there as well.
I’ve got my future ahead of me. People who are friends of Becca, or people at RMGS are not going to hold me down. They are bullies, but bullies cannot stop me from doing well. I’m going to finish my timed essay now, and then do a maths paper, and then do a history timed essay. I will succeed. I will win my battle.
This is my new beginning. No more false friends, no more. I’m living for me, not to make other people happy. I don’t ever have to know anyone I don’t want to who lives here again if I don’t want to.
And this weekend is going to be good. I’m going to get my general studies stuff, I’m going to see Jonathan, see Dad and co. Go out on Friday night, have fun wearing my new uniform at work on Sunday (haha!), and make sure that Jonathan makes me do revision while he updates because he has over a week to do now. :-) I’m happy with my life. I don’t care that other people think it’s sad. I really don’t give a shit. Heh. I’m alive. I can do what I want. I don’t have to go to Bar Rio and sway around with a bacardi breezer in my hand and my handbag and little blue skirt and perm smiling and gossiping.. I can go to the Tap n Tin where some people in my school wouldn’t dream of going, and get plastered and giggle and play pool badly to my hearts content. With my closest friends who I can talk to and have fun with at the same time… :-) As for the school prom!!!
£15 for a drink, some buffet food, and a disco. WOW!!! And people who hate my guts. Yeah… sounds really good! I’d rather go out with my friends any day. I don’t have a moral obligation to go to the prom. I can do whatever the fuck I like. And for my eighteenth, I’m not going to have a party, and have staid relatives who I only meet on occasions like that around… I’m going to go to London, with all my closest friends, and with Lucy and hers, and we’re going to go on a monopoly bar crawl, and get plastered! I already have an invitation list in my head… and hey, it’ll be my birthday… I can get someone to buy me a drink every now and then… muahahaa…
email me if you think you’re eligible for the invitation list. Muahahahahaaaa!