Last weekend, i was just a test away from completing my MA. MAJM (Master of Arts in Journalism and Mass Communication), if you bother. Only one paper away from accomplishing a goal that was supposed to be accomplished last decade itself! International Communication and Strategic Reporting was the paper. Which also happens to be my favourite subject. Which is why i chose it to be my last exam. Like you choose your desserts to end the meal. OK, bad analogy. Regardless, i couldn't even reach that point. The exam was on Saturday. I showed up on Sunday. Like a Grade A fool that i always thought i was. I've never been struck by lightning or a bad news before. I dread the day when the voice on the other side of the phone conveys a really terrible message. Maybe that's why my phone is always on silent mode. Even the info about my grandma's passage was relayed by my ma in a very empathetic fashion. Simply put, i'm pursuing 30 but my life has lacked drama to a large extent. There have barely been moments of sheer shock and awe. Thus, last weekend was an exception. I missed a paper i was so damn excited about and here i am now losing an academic year because of that one silly goofup. For the record, i've never missed a test before. In fact, i've even attended engineering math exams knowing very well that i'll score only digital marks. During moments like these, you look into yourself and try to fathom what went wrong. How did you lose focus? Who changed you? Where were you going? Whom did you hurt? What next? These are the questions you ask before arriving at a conclusion—without the drum rolls, of course—that it's time to shed the skin of self-pity and move the fuck on.