So this morning, when I woke up, my first thought? YAY! It's the end of term! I was ecstatic until I rembered that I needed to write out my English essay - what a good idea, I managed to pick the longest one. But no worries, I could do it on the bus, problem solved.
It never occured to me how many flipping country roads my bus actually goes along and country roads = bumps, potholes and ditches. : Damn it. But still I managed it eventually by, erm, not paying attention in house singing... *awkward cough* ... and lying to my english teacher...
But that's not the point. It was while I was doing it that the wave of realisation hit me. We have GCSE's in about two months. Less than that, I have three weeks to prepare for two orals, the absolute bane of my life. Even less than that, I'll be sixteen in just a week and for me that means responsibility, maturity and knowing what the hell I'm going to do with my life. Like I can decide that by next Friday.
And now begins the parental nagging to "make your revision plan", "stop being lazy, revise" and, in the case of my mother, "do some fucking revision!"