crime & punishment

As much as I want to, I don't think I will ever be able to accept my shitty, less-than-stellar A level results.

With university applications currently eating up most of my free time, I have no choice but to stare at that whitish-pink certificate often, with its never-changing alphabets haunting me in the days that follow.

My mother's perennial chattering about how I will "never reach my full potential" isn't exactly a big bonus either, and it just withholds me from moving on.

Every time I see that fucking certificate I feel like my chest has been hollowed out.

Yes yes, you may call me 'overdramatic' and try to reassure me that "grades aren't everything" but guess what? In conservative, grades-driven, stressful Singapore, a combination of 6 letters do define your life! Now I find myself worrying if I can even make it to the course of my choice, with the grade point indicators burned into the walls of my memory.

I believe I wouldn't be so bitter about my results if I sucked at English. The other day, someone who received an A for GP informed me that she didn't know who Ernest Hemingway was, and prior to that day was wholly unaware of his existence. And just last week I helped another friend who also attained an A for GP edit her personal statement, which had several jarring grammatical errors. [Note: This is not to vilify my friend, but simply to illustrate a point.]

Now I truly understand what people mean when a grade might not truly reflect one's ability. Every time I look at my 'B's for GP and literature, I can almost hear the gods laughing at me - the poor mortal, a mere plaything in their hands.

Gather round boys and girls, and look at stupid Shu Hui! This is the idiot who receives crummy grades for English, despite her love for the Beats, her enjoyment of Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytical theories and her admiration of Descartes' genius!

I think the worst part of my whole predicament is convincing my future employers that my command of the English language supersedes the grade I got. Goodness gracious, I can already imagine the looks of condescension, the sneers and the disbelieving chime of "Is that so?".

I want to let go, but I'll never be able to.