It's always fascinating for me to see the exact moment the clock turns from 23:59 into 00:00,

the
moment when February 20th officially ends, and the 21st begins. Then I'd make a mental note of
how I finally turn a year older, even though, technically, it's only a day older. That night, I made a
mental note of how I finally hit fifteen. Hello, teenagehood!

I whispered happy birthday to myself, locked my phone which was the only thing that kept the
bedroom dimly lit, then it was pitch black. Putting my phone on the nightstand, I felt a quirky mix of
emptiness and excitement for the day that lay ahead.

Approximately one minute after that, just as I was about to close my eyes, the phone screen lit up the
room again. I knew that putting my phone on the nightstand, just right beside me, wasn't good for my
circadian rhythm, definitely not making the dark circle under my eyes any better, but not checking
my phone one last time felt like an unfinished business, and I detested unfinished business.

I didn't know why I waited until midnight, didn't know what I was hoping for, at least until the text
came.

"Happy Luna’s day!! Hope you'll be as successful as you wanna be, and hope your gonna have the
best day ever today. 😊🎊"

Okay, poor grammar, I thought. I hated myself for thinking that, I really was such an arse. Truthfully
that was all insignificant. In all honesty, that simple message only painted my cheeks blush and put a
fire inside my chest. Girls my age always made a big deal about who's the first person that wish you
a happy birthday, more specifically who wishes it right in the middle of the night. I savoured the
moment, took more than a rational amount of time to write back a simple "thank you, Nic!"

I bit my lips a tad too hard for the sake of keeping myself from smiling too wide. Inhaling, exhaling,
then I hit the send button. It was hard to fall asleep under the spell of excitement but I forced myself
anyway. My last thought that night was, maybe things were finally moving into the course that I was
expecting.

How absolutely foolish of me.

---

A hopeless romantic. That's a term I had just learnt a few weeks ago while watching some blonde
artist interview. Since then I declared myself as one, as a hopeless romantic, regardless the fact that I
was just 12. And at that time, I thought I was hopelessly having a romantic feeling for a certain
senior guy, a basketball superstar. At least in my head the guy was superstar. Nevermind that he
didn't even know I existed. Still though, I linked every lyric of any love songs to him. I have a knack
of making everything relatable.

The crush lasted for 3 years full. Then it was my last year on junior high. Deciding on which high
school I was going to enroll in wasn't a difficult process at all. The high school located so close to my
home just happened to be the second best high school in town, and my crush just so happened to
enrol there too. I ignored the two sensible factors of why I needed to enrol there and went around
telling all my friends that I chose SMANSA, short for SMAN 1, because the senior guy I liked was
there too.

The decision making wasn't hard. But decision turned into goal, and the road that led there was far
from smooth. The first bump on the road was the national exam.

I studied hard for it and I could answer all the questions just fine. Time was up, I had answered
everything and hand in my sheet to the teacher. I wasn’t relieved when I walked out of the
classroom. My friends started to gush over the exam, I didn’t join them. Just like any other time I
had finished doing something, I began retracing my steps, wondering if I had done everything
correctly. I didn’t care if there was just one wrong answer it would have been fine, but what was
the most important thing in an exam? it's to make sure you circle your name correctly and your
student ID number and the subject of the exam that you're taking. I caught some of my friends’
conversation, something like “what’s your answer for number 20?” and “ah I wish I didn’t change
my answer" but soon they turn into unrecognisable murmurs, then I couldn’t hear anything as I felt
myself sinking.

Oh my God, have I circled the subject of the exam? That seed of thought went on my head, and it
grew so rapidly. In a matter of seconds, retracing my steps turned to doubting myself, and now
believing that I didn’t circle the subject. The consequence would be dire. What if I had to repeat my
9th grade, oh my God, I won’t be graduating with my friends. I really believed I hadn’t circled it.

I didn’t realise I was walking with my friends up until the moment I stopped dead on my track.
“Sarah...” I called the closest one to me. The conversation died and all five of them turned their
head to me. “What’s wrong?” Sarah said.

I wanted to speak my mind but the first thing that came out was only my sobbing. For a few
seconds I finally managed to say, perhaps incomprehensibly, “I think I didn’t circle the subject...”

“What do you mean?” Sarah inquired.

“I didn’t circle math. I – the – the system or the scanner or... whatever...they would deem my exam
sheet a mistake a flaw or or something,”

Amy chimed in as she squeezed my hand, “slow down. Let’s... um.. let’s go to the teacher’s room.”