I have (almost) forgotten the silent trauma that pw had put me through, trauma that I only knew existed when I started having recurring dreams of a second round of pw presentation, forgetting my lines on the day of the presentation, and only remembering that I had a presentation on the morning of the assessment (good lord.)

Today I stood by the white pillar that strangely enough (or not) looked like a tree trunk. Facing some unfamiliar, yet somewhat familiar faces, I began my ordeal. It went smoothly enough- I was smiling, everyone else laughing at all the right places. Nobody (I hope) saw how badly my thighs were shaking under my black skirt. Nobody heard the palpitations of my heart as I gushed naturally (as quoted from the evaluation session) about how lovely it is to read on the toilet bowl.

And suddenly, it was over.


With all the gratitude that my heart can hold, I thank every single one of you who had shown me encouragement and support during the ordeal; I still cannot quite reason with speeches. I can't say I will ever like delivering them, but I do have faith that one day, it will stop feeling like an ordeal. One day it will feel like the most natural part of my life. One day it will feel like I am just downing a glass of whisky and keeping it down.

Here's to a happy (almost) end of the school week xx