Which I have, like slipping into a river half-consciously, allowed to dictate my summer’s happiness and unhappiness.

Which I un-proudly recognize as not-a-bad struggle to have.

Which has made me dream of Europe as necessity like food – delusion.

Which my parents plopped me into, and have kindly encouraged me through.

Which is just a number, just a 500$+ number, just a career-deciding number, just a damn set of three numbers between a breath and a smiling or a brooding.

Which makes me wonder: Is this what the GaoKao feels like? Does God play any part in this? Can I define this as difficulty? Will I have to admit to something I would rather not? What good does being sorry for myself do?

Ah… To be purposelessly dangling your legs whilst on top of the pyramid.