If I had to think about the possible hardest moment of my short life so far, it would have to be around this time last year, waking up to the text of my final school results.

I knew that my ATAR wasn’t going to be pretty, and I told myself that I didn’t care, and that I was going to be fine, but seeing the number was painful. I think it was something like a 37.55.

Look it only took a day or so to get over it, and move on (and I have most definitely moved on), but it was a full day of people asking, me not wanting anyone to know, and figuring out what my next move is.

It’s a hard pill to swallow, seeing the score. There is nothing you can do to change it, but a lot of people are left to wonder how they will now go about the following year. And everyone’s situation is different, which makes it even worse when you didn’t go as well as you thought, and everyone else is celebrating.


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