You walk out of the room where the results were announced minutes ago. You’re disappointed to not hear your name be called out. The test had gone well, in your judgement. The company seemed like something where you could have imagined yourself to be. You wouldn’t like to admit it, but secretly, you had already imagined yourself there, in a cubicle of your own, working yourself to a higher position year after year. You snap back to the present, a little shattered, rebuking yourself for thinking too far ahead. Some of your friends have made it through. Some didn’t even make it to this round. You try to understand whether you’re grateful for having made this far or dejected for not going further. You wish your friends luck and walk off silently.

The ride back home is solemn. There is a song playing on the radio but you don’t even register the words. Your mind drifts back to where you went wrong. Was it that MCQ you weren’t confident about? Was it the question you changed your response to, when you peeped at what the person next to you wrote? Was your n² supposed to be n*logn? Or even more optimal? But your other friend had also made the same mistake, yet he was shortlisted. And the other one hadn’t even attempted another question. How did she make it? You have no answers.

You enter your house and your face is self-explanatory for your family members. They offer you a hug, and some consolation. They ask you why things aren’t working out. You wish you knew. Before they can ask any further, you make an excuse and go to your room. The lunch is almost ready but you have no appetite. You feign tiredness and say that you wish to sleep for some time. It’s a white lie. But one that your family lets you get away with. The lights are off but you are hardly asleep. In the darkness of your room, you have only your thoughts to give you company. And they aren’t very complimentary. Within minutes, you have questioned your preparation, your confidence, your skills and even your worth. The verdict passed in the court of your mind, where you yourself are the prosecutor and the defendant, is deeply unjust. Your inner prosecutor has assailed your abilities and your inner defendant has been surprisingly quiet. The confidence you took months, even years to build, has been swiftly shattered.

The phone buzzes. It’s a flurry of messages. Some friends wish to inquire about your day. They offer condolences and try to keep you cheered up. You know they mean well, but it is hard to not find the advice patronizing. Within moments, you hear one of your friends has made it through. And another hasn’t. You feel happy for one and sad for the other. And contemplate if it’s even possible to be both simultaneously. Your friend’s Facebook is flooded with congratulatory messages. An odd funny picture or two. Some anecdotes shared by others. Virtually, you ‘react’ to the posts. Yet how you must react to reality, confuses you. You imagine how relaxed your friend would be right now. How he has his calendar free from this burden. And although you didn’t intend this thought to go down this path, you suddenly realize how far you are from his life.

You’ve pretended to be asleep enough. So you wake up and get back to work with a grit and will that you don’t know is determination, competitiveness, or plain old envy. Will you become a small man if you admit you’re slightly envious of your friend? Is admitting that you are, even relevant? Is this a side of you, you never thought existed? Is this experience a life lesson? Should you term your day a failure? Should you term yourself one?

You’ve had enough of the pity party you’ve thrown yourself. You’re the guest and the host, and both of you are exhausted by it. You eventually get down to studying. You’ve been through these questions before, but you wish to study them again. You’ve lost surety of how well you thought you knew them. It’s tiring to focus. You’re clearly not up for the challenge today. But you’re too scared to let the day go by, without feeling you accomplished something of note. You unwillingly will yourself to dive head first into preparation. It’s a surge of motivation. The more you study, the more you realize you are familiar with all of this. You know this in and out. Where are you going wrong then?

You eventually feel your confidence seeping in, slowly. You console yourself that you can hold on for another day. You rationalize that you’re being pushed further to the top of the queue, as the others are leaving. A glimmer of hope shines through. You are suddenly optimistic about tomorrow. You’ve judged yourself too harshly today. You remind yourself to be more careful the next time around. You finally realized what you did wrong on the test today. You’ve made a note of that mistake. It won’t happen again.

When you finally lie down to sleep, anxiety sets back in. The doubts, uncertainties and concerns you spent hours to alleviate, come back with a sudden ferocity. What is it about your thoughts before sleep that awaken an existential crisis in you? You decide that you won’t fall prey to them this time. You’ve had a difficult day. While someone you knew was out partying till the wake of dawn, someone was out rejoicing a newfound freedom, someone else was reading an acceptance letter from his dream college and someone else was already planning his next vacation, you had broken yourself down and built yourself up from scratch, within the same day. Today clearly wasn’t your day. But you didn’t let it win over you. You’re still alive. You’re still talented. You’re still willing to try again. So it may not seem like you have a lot going for you right now, but maybe, just maybe, for today, even this is enough.