Forty-five.

Fuck you. Fuck everyone. Fuck you all for being on my back. For not being on my back. For only being there when it DIDN'T matter. Fuck you for trying and failing to be a part of my life. Damn your pathetic efforts to make some sort of meaningful relationship with your own fucking daughter. Fuck you all for just assuming that it would be okay, that things would just turn out alright; fuck you for being so damn blind. For standing so fucking far away that when I needed you, you were too far out of reach. Fuck you all for being so goddamn disappointed in me, like you never expected it. Well open your eyes you dumb fucks! Did you think I wasn't disappointed enough in myself? How goddamn smart did you think I was; did you think I'd get away with a year without studying? I'd like to see you get a fucking 7 in Standard Level maths...

Fuck you for giving up on me. Don't you worry though, because I'll show you. And when I do, I'll make sure you don't get a cent of credit for it. I will remind you how you didn't believe in me, how you didn't put the effort in. Unless, perhaps, it all turns out the wrong way round..

You want to know the truth? The truth is, I didn't put in the effort. I didn't put in the effort and there was very little that you could do about it. There. I said it. But you'll never hear it. I couldn't bear to expose your ears to the horrid words. Your money, your livelihoods, your lives - all devoted to me, the selfish brat. Stop trying to blame everyone else, M., it's all your fucking fault.