Hello whoever might be out there,  GCSEs. Mock exams. Every day feels like banging my head against a brick wall but not even making a dent. Running circles only to reach the same conclusion. When I am sitting in that exam hall, air-conditioning ticking and hands freezing, picking up a pen feels like bearing a hundred tonne load. Typing a sentence is sending my fingers on a marathon - yet nobody can run ten marathons in a row. So why is the bare minimum for me to slave away in this way? My English Language story is about a girl trying so hard yet failing all of her GCSEs, yet she is a refugee. She doesn't speak the language. She never stood a chance. Yet I do have a chance, as if I am performing my one person rendition of Hamilton, "I am not throwing away my shot." But that shot has pretty much already left my hands and is hurtling down into depths where I can not obtain it. I have to keep saying that it doesn't matter and that I don't care; that is the only feasib...