Actions Have Consequences

The dim lighting of my lamp shaded my soft, pink face. It was already half an hour past midnight, yet I could not get started on studying for my upcoming exam. I know that Mr. R, my English teacher, consistently told my class not to feel so liberated that it’s finally summer and classes are over because we still have to finish our major exam first. Yet, I cannot stop surfing through the Internet, and chatting with my friends through social networks.

I recall two years ago, when I had first written my provincial exams. As the results came out a month later, I felt my heart race as I crossed my fingers hoping that a week of meeting my friends instead of studying did not affect my grades. However, despite my hope and crossed fingers, the outcome for the exams was horrible. I knew that if I were to tell my parents, who strongly believed that I was a good kid, I would get into a huge trouble. So, I ended up lying to them that the exams could not be graded due to the teacher’s strike that year.

I promised myself not to make the exact same mistake this year. My final year of high school, I told myself, should be more productive and well-spent unlike the past four years I have spent procrastinating.

My mother always reminded me that if I pay the hours, wealth and fruit will be returned to me eventually. I knew this with all my heart. Yet, it is not easy for one to suddenly start working when she has already spent the past 1,300 days not doing what she was supposed to do.

So here I am- sitting in front of my computer screen, just scrolling down my newsfeed, gossiping with my friends about a girl who has just cheated on her boyfriend, and procrastinating. And yes, I am aware that my exam is worth 40% of my mark and that it is tomorrow. However, I cannot help but think to myself that since it’s an English exam, there’s not much I can study for. I mean, how much can a person improve his or her writing in a matter of a day?

The following day, I walk into the gym of my secondary school with two pens, a pencil, and an eraser in my hand. The teacher instructs me and my classmates to locate the table with our names on it, and sit down. A few moments later, he tells us to begin the exam.

I open up the exam booklet, and it is at that moment I start regretting that I had not studied the previous night. Every single word in the question seem Latin to me. I feel my brain burn up as it is trying to make sense of each question.

Within a matter of hours, I have already finished my exam. I guessed most of the multiple choice questions and I doubt my essays even made any sense. I walk out of the room, eyes watery and my mind filled with regret as I tell myself-

I should have studied last night.