I click on the webpage, I can feel my heart increasing its beats by the seconds. I damn the internet connection, as slow as my grandmother when crossing an avenue, my mood is as impatient as that of the car drivers waiting for the old lady to get the hell out of their way. Then something appears on the screen. I shout. Page not found. What the heck, my connection is dead. My hands fumble with the router with jerky movements, which does nothing to help the connection or my mood. The raising anger, at the internet, at the provider, at the landlord spreads very quickly to the world and to my own existence, one which I felt depended on this damned malfunctioning internet line. I had to know, now, how the exam went. I think about the last fortnight, where one drunken evening followed a sleepless one, stomach aches eating my body from within. I had waited long enough, I want my life back, no, I want my future back. Back? Why did I say that? Did I not want to…move forward? Go to med school and all that? Become like my parents? As I keep trying to repair the connection, I notice my hands trembling. My heart races but now it is not because of the result of the exam. It is rather this large void that opens up in the center of my body, my throat closing so tight that swallowing becomes impossible. I sit down, appalled. With one thought, a simple five words sentence, I see the house of cards representing future, which I made so carefully all along, painstakingly, crumbling to nothing. I stare ahead of me and see nothing but a black, deep hole. Then a bip, and the screen comes to life again. Now I am more scared than ever. Scared to have failed, scared to have succeed. Whatever it will be, I lose. But which part of me?
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