3 days ago, on A Level Results Day, which is arguably the most important day of my academic year, I got home at 2 in the morning after work. Considering the fact that I can sleep through 5 alarm clocks, this was probably a stupid idea.
I woke up when my older sister asked, “Hey, what time are you going in to get your results?”
“Eight…,” I replied, and closed my eyes.
“It’s eight thirty,” she said.
Eyes flying open, and in a state of panic, I fell out of bed, and checked my phone. My best friend had called three times, and I had been too busy sleeping to answer. I called her, and asked if she could pick up my results for me. When I heard that she had already left school, I panicked even more, until she reminded me to check UCAS first. I would have preferred to have my results first, but it was too late for that, so I shakily booted up my laptop and logged in.
I screamed out of sheer joy, and started crying. My parents and sisters were so excited for me, and my best friend, who was still on the phone with me, congratulated me. The journey to pick up my results was so strange. I was elated, yet wanted to cry. I also wanted to kick myself for not waking up on time. When I saw my friend coming out of school, I started crying again, which worried him, until I told him my good news.
The whole day after that became a blur of calling and texting friends to find out how they did. The worst bit about that day was reassuring disappointed friends, and talking through their options. The most important thing was to make sure they were okay, and I think I managed to do that.
I can’t wait for September. It will definitely be scary, and it hasn’t sunk in just yet that I will be a university student, but new friends and new experiences await me.
It’s going to be so fun!