valentine's day Sickening day at School.

Listening to: Hajimari no Kaze - Ayaka Hirahara

WEDNESDAY WAS THE MOST DEPRESSING DAY OF MY LIFE.

I broke down in my class. Twice. This has never happened to me before.

And the reason behind all this distress?

Simple - My essay wasn't selected to represent the school for the Commonwealth Essay competition.

And before you brainlessly discard that matter as insignificant and trivial, I suggest you read on AND SALT MY WOUND. To me, it is a VERY BIG DEAL. And when I say big deal, I mean the-end-of-the-world big deal.

It's the second time that this is happening to me and I'm so fucking sick of this shit.

The first time my essay wasn't selected was when I was in Form 2. Last minute work, that's why. Of course I was disappointed but I quickly got over it. I vowed to myself that I was going to write better essays for future competitions. I did not want the same thing to happen to me again.

Form 3 and Form 4 - I didn't take part because I knew I wasn't ready yet. I had to make sure that there wasn't going to be a second time. My essay HAS TO BE SELECTED.

Finally now that I'm in Form 5, I was determined. I spent a month trying to concoct a story that would appeal the Commonwealth judges. So, I decided to write something that wasn't MY STYLE. If I wrote it my style, it wouldn't be appropriate because usually essays of my style involve fantasy, the -gorgeous- spilling of blood, slight violence and gore... You know, those gritty details.

I wrote something about reality instead. About how a snobbish little girl changed into a quiet and demure lady after her parents' death.

HOWEVER.

My fucking essay wasn't selected for the second fucking time.

You can imagine how disheartening that was.

The feedback I got - my story was too common.

Fuck this whole world.

I should have gone with my style because reality related essays are not my forte. I excel in writing fantasy related ones.

I felt as if 27 whales just slapped me in the face.

When Zhia Ern first told me about it, I swore that my inner self was drowning. Little tears stung my eyes but I couldn't cry. I REFUSED to cry. I thought that I could get over it when I was helping her to email the essays in the staff room.

But when I got back to class, Agnes just asked me softly, "Was your essay selected?"

Four words. One question. That was all it took to make the invisible barriers I had just forged between my eyes and tear glands to disappear. I merely shook my head and cried silently (the teacher was in class). 20 minutes later, it was recess and when the teacher stepped out of the class, I officially broke down and cried, hard.

From the shuffling of footsteps, I could tell that my friends were surrounding me. Kelsey hugged me till she cried herself. Wennie also came to my desk and I leaned on her to cry. It was all like some crazy crying drama scene you see in those Taiwan series. Vina and the others tried comforting me too but I was too depressed to be comforted by mere words.

In the end, I didn't go out for recess, I had no appetite to eat anything. I just stayed in class, trying to compose myself. Kelsey, Cassie, Sean and Wennie accompanied me. Thanks guys.

When I finally calmed down, my English teacher came into class and saw me looking morose. She called me to her desk and asked "What happened? Why are you looking so sad? Is it because of the Commonwealth essay?"

And yes, I dunno why, I just broke down, again, in front of my teacher. I officially suffer from nervous breakdown, people. This is pathetic. I cried till my eyes were hurting. I think my tear glands went dry trying to leak all the liquid out.

My teacher told me that my English was among the best, the other participants had many grammar mistakes. But because their stories were more outstanding than mine, therefore mine wasn't chosen.

HAH.

I finally know my school's standard. They don't care how good your English is. It's the story content that matters.

So what's the point in excelling in English?

I. LOST. TO. A. COUPLE. OF. PEOPLE. WHOSE. ENGLISH. AREN'T. AS. GOOD. AS. MINE.

I live only to humiliate myself. Period.

I feel like breaking someone's spinal cord.