(you better lose yourself in the critics / they wrote shit that you flicked / through without too much thought)
Tomorrow is my first university exam, and so will be inevitably accompanied by a flight of devils blasting GWAR, an announcement by the Tory government that they’re taxing the inhalation of oxygen by anyone without a double-barrelled middle name, and this pair of twats from my own distant past. At the moment, it’ll be considered a blessing if UCL graciously provide us with a clock with which to check the time as we write our essays.
These days, directly before exams, are my least favourite of the year. With an exam looming, it’s so easy to fall into a trap of self-doubt, that you don’t know literally all of the Bible by heart so you’re going to fail miserably, or frenzied cramming to make up for what you wrongly perceive to be a lax prior month of revision. In reality, now is perhaps the worst time to abandon a months-entrenched, carefully constructed plan because there’s no time to make up for it.
Today essentially epitomises the last month of revision: some excitement for being able to write about things you’re interested in, some fear for the consequences of said writing, some isolation that everyone seems to be much better-prepared than you, some comradeship that you’re all being screwed over together by the same exams, professors and timetables. And that’s all today is: another day that seems like so much more; a day that only has earth-shattering significance if you decide that it does, and let that decision affect your day.
So best wishes to people sitting exams specifically tomorrow, those who are in the thick of them already, and those who still have a few days before their personal apocalypse rains down upon them; because there are three certainties in life: death, taxes, and getting royally frakked over by grade boundaries and mark schemes, so let’s all suffer together.