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March 29, 2008
As I walk towards the Math Building to look at my grades, I muttered some words over and over again. "Please don't let me be a finalist. Please. If I take the final exams, I'll probably fail it and then I'll have to retake Math 11 for the third time. No Math 11 take 3 please. Please."

I see the piece of paper pinned to the board. I walk closer, slower, still muttering to myself. I could feel tension. I could feel stress. I looked at the paper and felt as if I was being swallowed up by the ground.

FINALIST.