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Mom read my journal yesterday. She read the bit about me maybe failing math. You'd think I was threatening suicide or something, geez! And then she tried to 'talk' to me about it, as if I really needed to. You know Mom, I have a lot of experience being me. I can make myself miserable by worrying about things I can't change, or I can accept that I am not able to pass a math class the first time around. That's not such a bad thing if you think about it, it means that when I do pass the class I'll be exposed to it twice, and therefore know the material better then if I had just taken the class once. Really, people need to learn how to chill.