I am now in a new phase in my life. I shifted courses after what I call the most tumultuous summer ever, full of tears, heart pain, and regret. I try to pinch myself sometimes, pretending that it’s a dream that I’ll wake up to. But it isn’t. I have changed courses, and yes, I am happy. I am, don’t get me wrong. But there are those moments where I sink into an alternate universe and pretend I was still in my present course. What could have happened?
I dreamt about this before wherein I’d think of situations of failure. I was still at my highest point of my academe life, and I was imagining how it would feel if at one point I’d fail the hard way. I didn’t mean the F-on-a-test-paper universe. I meant like fail a subject or even fail a course. Well, voila. I have done both and it’s painful because I had never been faced with that kind of dilemma. Be careful what you wish for. Of course, I’m still in the school I love but in a different light. I’m much more silent and soft-spoken, and the pressure’s greater.
I could have achieved more, I know that. Last night, I got another painful scolding from my parents, remembering the times where I had screwed up. Yeah, I screwed up for two years. My grades were average. Then there was this talk about grades and JTA all over again. I had already accepted the fact that I couldn’t make it and I tried to cover my heavy-hearted disappointment with other things but they brought it up yesterday and well, there was that familiar feeling of “that could’ve been me.” I could’ve been part of those who would disappear into another country for five months, attempting to start something new and make a name for myself. I know that’s getting ahead of what we’re supposed to do there but I can’t help thinking, how many times should I have to start over before I get it right this time?
To tell you the truth, JTA wasn’t of much importance to me because the schools I wanted to go to weren’t on the list. That was a relief I lauded myself with. At least NYU wasn’t there, or Oxford. But it pained me because you know, I felt like such a failure. Damn that second semester, really. I had never felt so low or stupid in my life. Up until now, I still can’t get over it. I have been scarred by the faces I see when reminders of what had happened pass by me. I still get frightened whenever I “see” or “think I’ve seen” professors of last semester. That’s how jaded I was, and the fact that I had basically given up when it was difficult.
I thought that moving to another course would finally get rid of the hurt, but there are those reminders still. My friends are rejoicing over the fact that they’re going away and the comforting comments of those who are staying with me still don’t help. I still see those people around, the people who’ve challenged me last semester. I sometimes want to throw water in their faces to show them how much I’ve been hurt. I wanted them to know how much this whole experience pained me and I wish I weren’t put in this situation. But whatever I do, I can never blame them because it was all on me. It was ninety-percent my fault (and ten percent to you because while I do believe this is my doing, you still made it difficult not just for me but for the others so there).
But well, like every year, the sun will rise. And I know I have been saying this a lot but I will change. I have been working harder than ever and I now care about my grades even more. I even have a plan to achieve the coveted spot of dean’s lister because I want to taste glory again. I’ve been under an academic dry spell for six years now. It’s time to change that. Tomorrow’s always better than yesterday, I can tell you that much. The scars will never disappear but well, it’s less painful now. It’s actually been four/five months since March and I don’t want to keep thinking about it any longer. It was brought up yesterday and it will not be brought up again, I can assure you that.
While the overachievers are gone, it’s my turn to do something new. I will make a difference. I will make a difference, I swear it.