I’m a little worried about a certain thing. Two words. Physical Chemistry. I took this nightmare of a class this year and was completely flogged by it. I’ve never had a class that drains a person’s mind, body and self-esteem. This class is so bad that there are no tutors. This class is so bad that there are only a limited amount of people who can teach it properly. This class is so bad that during our final this year, people were calculating what they needed to make to merely pass it with a D.

 Well, I was one of those people. My first and hopefully, my only D in this life. I was so drained as I trudged to the front and handed the man my paper, praying to God that I would never see him again or this kind of class. By God’s grace alone, when I email my advisor today, I hope that he will not ask me to take it again. I rather pass through a bed of flaming hot coals or jump over the Grand Canyon than take that class again.

This year was the only time in a long time that I felt so inadequate. I mumbled my grades when people asked me or just merely gave them my famous “drained” look whenever they asked how classes went this semester. It’s funny how as a student in college, classes become your life and so when you fail in class, you seem like a failure outside of it.

Well, summer is here and I’ve had a few weeks to chillax with my homies. Hah, with my family. I have this bad habit of “losing” my phone and all form of communication with the outside world when I’m at home. In reality, I’m a hermit. If I can just stay in my home, no one will hear about me for days. In other words, I’m a homebody and proud of it.