90

I got a final grade of 90 on my undergraduate thesis. I was so anxious before seeing the grade, and then there it was, and I started crying. I'm not happy. I'm not proud. The mark means nothing to me. I don't care. For once all of my stress, hard work and dedication paid off, and now I get two pen-strokes on a piece of paper. Whoop-de-fuckin-do. I got a 90. Et alors? All of the stress probably cut off a full year from my life expectancy - yeah, that was definitely worth it.

I'm so angry.

I'm so angry that the education that I made so many sacrifices for no longer means anything to me.

I realized a long time ago that (if anything) a college education would have been better suited to me than this, but my parents wanted us to have university degrees and I wanted to fulfill that wish. Now I'm in way too much debt with nothing to show for it. (On that note, there's an organization that compensates people whose lives have suffered from violent crimes. But, apparently, my own experience couldn't have significantly affected me and there's no way I could have experienced shock, so I don't qualify. Fuck you.)

I could have been gaining experiences in these past four years. I could have been building my resume (which currently is an empty piece of crap). I could have been taking time to properly mourn my family. Hell, I could have been at home with them in their last years.

The things I gained and learned from university were not academic, and I feel as though there are cheaper and more fulfilling ways to gain the same education.

Whatever.

Keep your damn 90. Or let me trade it for a hug from my mom.

It's not like a decent transcript is a ticket to good karma.

I'm so angry.