In many ways the HSC is what people would call a void of life itself, a perpetual abyss where happiness and interest die alongside the sanity of anxiety and anticipation. I'd rather like to think of it as a storm, a crazed frenzy of last-minute cramming, and muddled schedules. In some ways you may end up somewhere amazing, or it could suddenly spit you out in god knows where - maybe even shitville or the urban renewal of "Great" Western Sydney. Oh anywhere but there.
Numbers seem to run naturally in my family, well at least on my mother's side of things. Asians are usually associated with a natural mathematical pedigree. I used to be a child prodigy in mathematics, always counting things, dividing things, and just had a knack for numbers. Never did i imagine it to be this tough. Maybe i was the only asian back then but if my results are anything to come by, you would discover that mathematics is not natural, it is supernatural, an evil witch depriving you of both sleep and sanity. (Oh wait that's my mother.) For all that effort, you receive, drum-roll, a fail. Still though, with a fanatical asian mother, mathematics is not only a cliched stereotype but it is a way of life. Time to embrace it more than ever.
Not all is gloom and doom in the calm before the storm for all other subjects are still headed in the right direction. Time seems to be passing by quickly - and maybe the storm will sneak up on everybody, but all people can do is prepare for the worst: plan escape routes and stock up on supplies high in fatty zits. Hang on people, it's going to be a rough storm.
Procrastinating from writing an English essay on poetry so bye.
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