Daydream saves my life from getting drowned by the brutal reality. I've always dreamt nice things happening to me. Flashes of me getting a man whom I love and who cherishes me more than his mother, me writing by the lake for my next New York Times' best seller, me in a dark blue pair of converse strolling around the office in search of ingenious pointers to help free my client from law suits and of course me, paying for a Louis Vuitton handbag with my platinum card for my mom's birthday. But I've never imagined how life would be like if I were to graduate with a degree classification no firm would spare a glance at. Well, I would most probably be mourning for the rest of my life about that and continue to yearn for the impossibles.  

I've lost it! I've lost the hope I've been harbouring for this entire year. Sure, the results aren't out yet and we all know miracles happen. It does but what are the odds? In fact, the stats have it that I don't stand a chance at all. And sure, there are many things my finger can effortlessly point at - the pressure, the time, the place, the people, the method I employed and the selections of the less obvious, but the truth is, I've never really believed in myself even until the last moment before I peed and stepped into the arena. All I've been doing is gobbling up all the necessary information and holding my hopes high that the right platform will fall on me for me to plate them all up. So much to prepare, so much to tinker about yet so little time I'm given is not an excuse but I can't help but to think they contribute a whole lot for the feigning hopes. Yes, I'm contradicting myself here. I want to believe so much that I'm not the cause for my failure and I want to believe so much that everything else played a part in that scheme.

I'm done for this year. Whilst I'm relieved it's over, I find myself baulking at the idea that I'm no longer an undergraduate, that there's no more papers for me to resurrect my hopes. I have lost my sanity, haven't I?