The feeling that hits you hard in the stomach when you step out of the exam, it's a mixture of relief and pure unending panic. Wasn't question 5 more about X or Y than T and P. Did I actually write what I thought I wrote? These questions are bound to float across your mind as you step out of the exam hall into the sun/rain/frost/sleet/wind (Is it the summer really? Feels like the bleak unending winter)
The end is in sight, and yet seems so far away. The motivation that moved you due to impending doom, or some unholy fear, has subsided, and has been replaced with dread. A fear and inability to process and progress.
And yet, I feel an odd sense of calm. The same calm that enables the inmate to put his feet, one step after the next to the guillotine. Enables the pilot to walk towards his stunt plane, knowing he has a 50/50 chance of surviving the stunt, enables me to walk into that exam hall with the encouraging looks from the examiners and the??invigilators. Each ponderous page, each flip back and forth, checking that I have indeed written what should be right. The realisation that I may have wrote something wrong for half a page, as I rewrite and alternate between the hope that I did finally get it right, the fear that I've given myself the failure that would render me unable to attend my graduation ceremony.
This reminds me that ultimately: This too shall pass.??And this too, will give me the impetus to make it.