A tapping foot.

20 days are left for the result. A result that may never be asked of me again. A result that would only matter for a year maybe two. But I am worried. It matters now. Everyone around me is giving it importance. Hence, Maybe I ought to give it importance as well. That’s when it starts. My foot begins to tap. Faster with each passing minute. I am used to it now; it sort of help put everything else in slow motion. A trick I play on my own mind to make it stop worrying. That’s when my brain steps in. Let's rationalise what we have. Thoughts such as, “I’ll get a passing grade at least, right?” “These two subjects went pretty well. Possibly I got good grades?” “This one did not go so well.”

As I continued in my thought process of rationalising and foot tapping the pressure began to build. I don’t show it when I am Infront of others though. In front of them, it’s all good “It’s just one result.” Yet deep down I knew that if this result was not good, a great part of my confidence will be ruined. This is not because I value the result more than the process but because I always trusted myself to deliver. At the end of the day, this result would mean something for whatever short period of my life. Just 15 days were left for the result to be released. My friends had begun a few religious practices. Some began planning how to break it to their parents.

I was not religious, and I never really would lie to my parents. It wasn’t that I never did anything wrong, just well I did everything right. Jokes like these would amuse me as the pressure built since the only humour I ever found funny was my own. Which was surprising because I was not very funny. The foot tapping calmed down a bit as the distractions seized in. Everyone around me told me that no matter what the result was they knew that I had done my best. Consoling is a concept that no one has ever mastered, not even me. Which was quite evident. Telling someone with a bad result that they did their best only makes it worse since they realise their best is not enough.

It was the last week before the results came out, walking past someone and you could see even their smile has a bit of fear behind it. Yet I look at people that have finished and graduated and do not care about any of their results at all instead of those that did well, or those that did not do well. For each of them, it left a very deep mark on their actual understanding of self. As it was the first time they were numbered in comparison to everyone in the world. I fear that as you read this piece I will probably be trying to compare my number with everyone else’s. Yet that is not even the height of the problem.

It’s the last weekend before the results come out. I have not sat in any position where one part of my body is not tapping or fidgeting. The consoling has begun. “whatever happens, soon it will be in the past.” “don’t think about the result, it is not in your hands anymore” It got even worse as everyone said these things to me, not because they did not have any value, but because I knew that somewhere in everyone’s mind they would reject me if the result was not as good as it was meant to be. What was it meant to be? As the weekend came to its end, I started truly questioning my value.

I fear that I won’t be able to digest what happens tomorrow, whether it is good or bad.