Results.

In a few hours' time... I will know what results I got for the International Baccalaurate diploma, otherwise known as IB or International Bullshit to the angry masses.

Looking back, I really can't believe it's been two years: two years since I started this course. Two years since I threw away the tree outfit and donned the black and white, two years since I sold away my freedom for sweat and tears and blood and a double-digit number that has yet to appear. And I suppose, in those two years, I've grown; grown from a stupid little kid to a stupid big kid.

I've bitched and joked and worked and prayed. I've learned some of life's most valuable lessons and gotten to know some of the best people. I've laughed and cried and screamed and yelled, I've learned and thrived and flung books from one side of my room to the other in tears.

And in a few short hours... It will really all be over.

Now, for the masses. Here are some extracts from the posts I wrote in the last year of doing the IB- though they say you never do the IB. The IB does you.

1/9/08: (When the first term of Year 13 started)

THIS IS GETTING TOO FUCKING MUCH.

3/9/08: (When I found out that I had to stay in HL Math because I was predicted a 5, not a 4)

...

I got my predicted grades.

WHY. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY.

(is it possible to be both annoyed and happy at the same time? to feel as if people are giving you false hope but then be somewhat pleased that all these people, your parents your teachers your seniors are all telling you you can do it. but you don't know whether they're just trying to inflate your ego so that you don't fall again

and because they're afraid of picking up the pieces.)

9/10/08: (After studying too much Wilfred Owen)

wrapped up in rose-tinted sheets, she lifts her eyelids with a
sigh, gazing into the distance outside her window
and the breaking sun. daytime has arrived, sealing the doors of a
sleepless night shut, marking
the end of a horizon of restless dreams,
winding tapestries with battered seams.

is it too much to ask? no, fat skeleton stares back at her from
her mirror; she needs not have mascara under her eyes
and yet she is snow-white; shot at dawn, wondering
what and why and how
this will be if she stumbles ahead.

24/10/08: (After screwing up my Cambridge interview)

Oh, well.

Throwing away everything you've been working for for the past two years isn't the end of the world!

4/1/09 (... Oh and I got rejected by the way, by a phone call. See what I mean?)

I dreamed that I got rejected.

Now, we shall apply the same logic to this that we have to my other dreams. For the IOC, I dreamed that I would get a certain chapter (but proceed to totally mess it up). In reality, Eveline got that chapter, and she did not mess it up.

Therefore, that means...

Someone else will get a rejection? (Preferably someone on the other side of the world)

Or...

I will get a rejection, but not in the form of a letter. Possibly an e-mail? A phone call? I don't know.

I don't know if I want to know.

11/5/09: (During exams)

HEY GUYS
Wei Yun is busy
Wei Yun is stressed
But not doing anything about it
WHY
BECAUSE
SHE IS STUPID!
LOLOLOLOLOL
Do you like rabbits? I like rabbits

... It seems like my mental state just went downhill, didn't it?