There is a saying: it’s good to know your own limits.
I know most of my limits. I know I can’t sing. I can’t paint. I can’t do sit ups. I can’t bend down and touch my toes without bending my knees.
But there are certain limits that I wish I will never know.
After the Economics paper during mocks, as I put down my pen in resignation, I truly and deeply felt sad. I was sad beyond words because I knew, in some obscure corner of my mind, I had tried “my best”. I also knew (or thought I knew) that I had screwed up my paper.
It was sad because I knew, at that time, what little result my “best” could yield. I had reached my limit and apparently it was not very far.
But at that point, I suppose my life must have been part of a movie because I really did not do badly.
But movies can only last for so long.
For several days now I have been haunted by nightmarish flashbacks, not unlike Katniss and Peeta in The Hunger Games. I subconsciously bring myself back to the examination hall. And see my helpless self punching away frantically at my TI-89, unable to – didn’t know how to – solve and prove the equations and conjectures. I see four more versions of myself in different venues, brainstorming for answers. Reading and rereading my work. Confidence breaking. Legs shaking furiously.
I like to think that I had indeed “done my best”. Right after the examinations, I really did think that nothing that I might have done could have changed the outcome. I’d finished the past years. I’d tried the extra exercises. I’d done my research. I’d read the notes. I did more than what I have been doing for the past exams.
And yet.
And yet my mind plays with all the endless negative possibilities. So much so that I simply dread the coming of the 29th.
What if that was my limit? And what if it isn't as far-reaching as I thought it is?
Plagued by fear, I’ve lost sight on the silver lining. Somewhere along the way, the pressure of it all had punctured a hole in my shield of optimism. ):
That being said, I need to restock my chocolates. =]



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