The air in the corridor seemed heavy as Y/N walked towards her dorm, the weight of her failure clinging to her like a second skin. She had faced countless challenges before, but the sting of her recent setback felt different. It was a reminder of the fragility of success, the humbling realization that even the best-laid plans could crumble in an instant.
As Y/N entered her room, she let out a sigh that carried the weight of her disappointment. She knew Marcus would be concerned about her low score on the practice final exam, and she wasn't eager to discuss it. But she also knew that Marcus was a true friend, someone who had always been there to support her.
Marcus's concern was evident as he approached her, his eyes searching her face. "Hey, Y/N. I heard about the practice exam. Are you okay?"
Y/N's shoulders sagged as she took a seat on her bed. "Yeah, Marcus. I just... I can't believe I did so poorly. I thought I was prepared."
Marcus sat down beside her, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe there's a reason behind it. Let's look at your notes and the textbooks you used."
Y/N sighed, opening her notebook and the textbooks she had used for her preparation. As Marcus flipped through the pages, his brows furrowed, and then he burst into laughter.
Y/N's eyes widened in surprise and mild annoyance. "What's so funny, Marcus?"
Still chuckling, Marcus pointed to the textbooks. "Y/N, these are the textbooks from last semester. You've been studying outdated material."
Y/N's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Oh my god, are you serious? How did I not notice?"
Marcus's laughter subsided, replaced by a gentle smile. "It's okay, Y/N. Sometimes we get so comfortable with certain habits that we overlook the obvious. It's a mistake anyone could make."
Y/N leaned back against her bed, her frustration turning into a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I can't believe I failed because I used the wrong textbooks. What an epic fail."
Marcus nudged her playfully. "Well, at least now you know what went wrong. You'll bounce back from this, Y/N. You always do."
After Marcus left, Y/N found herself alone in her dorm, her thoughts swirling like a tempest. She walked over to her desk and pulled out her painting supplies, seeking refuge in the canvas that awaited her touch.
Sitting down at her desk, she let out a sigh and looked at her textbooks, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. She had used outdated material for her preparation, a rookie mistake that had cost her dearly.
Marcus's concerned voice echoed in her mind, and she shook her head in annoyance at her own oversight. How could she have been so careless? She knew better than to make such a basic mistake.
Determined to distract herself from her disappointment, Y/N reached for her painting supplies. Painting had always been a way for her to unwind and clear her mind. As the brush touched the canvas, she allowed her thoughts to drift and her emotions to flow.
Her strokes were hesitant at first, the canvas a blank slate mirroring her own uncertainty. But as she continued, the colors began to take shape, merging and blending into a chaotic yet strangely harmonious mess.
Y/N's frustration and self-doubt is in each stroke of the brush. The colors clashed and mixed, reflecting the turmoil within her. The canvas became a tangible representation of her inner struggles, a testament to the raw emotions she couldn't put into words.
As she painted, time seemed to slip away, and Y/N found herself lost in the process. She painted with a mix of determination and frustration, each brushstroke a release of pent-up emotions. The canvas became a safe space where she could channel her anxieties.
When she finally put down her brush, her chest felt heavy, her thoughts still caught in the grip of doubt. She stared at the painting, the swirls of color a visual representation of the storm within her.
Y/N stares at her Instagram. She goes to AustinShow's profile and puts her finger over the block button.