It's important to know that this story is purely from my imagination, and I don't intend to spread animosity towards science.
Reminscing about my sweet sophomore years, but on my desk lies a wasteland of notes, damp tissue paper and, my journal.
I had been smooth sailing from high school to entering a university, until my first year in my university. "How can I not sob throughout the night?" I would repeatedly grill myself.
It was decidedly one of the most merciless wrecking balls that pulverized my confidence countless times.
"It is answering skills, not your sloth, that culminated with atrocious scores" was simply a concocted alibi that I used to assuage my parents' worries over my perennially slipping scores in class.
Admittedly, I hardly devoted any time to studying biology, and getting 44 percent out of one hundred in my term test is certainly par for the course, says my teacher.
"I could care less about your future, son. You're failing every time and you're still hanging out with your girlfriend? You had better..."
Give in to pressure? That has never, ever appeared in my mind.
Being that I'm unfalteringly resilient, I will never be toppled by any invincible nemeses of mine because my instinct has always promised me, victory will be the sweetest gift for you in the end.
Everything that intimidated me in this past year is now water under the bridge.
And now, when push comes to shove, I am poised to make a resilient comeback WITH A VENGEANCE.
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