One teenager. One result website. And enough panic to power an entire city. In this edition of dear diary, read about the most stressful five minutes ever.

11:00 a.m.

The CBSE website was supposed to open at 11.

It is now 11:37.

I have refreshed the page so many times that even Google Chrome is judging me personally. At one point my laptop froze and I genuinely whispered, “Please don’t do this to me,” like it was a dying character in a movie.

The website keeps showing:
“Error.”

Thank you. Very helpful. Revolutionary information.

Mumma has walked into my room at least 19 times pretending she “just came to keep clothes.” Sure. And I’m Shah Rukh Khan.

Papa suddenly cares deeply about internet speed.

“WiFi theek chal raha hai?”
“Roll number ready rakho.”
“Laptop charge pe lagao.”

BRO I KNOW.

Meanwhile my relatives have unlocked Olympic-level timing.

“Beta result aaya???”

No aunty. The Education Ministry called and said they’re waiting for my permission first.

And why does result day make the whole house feel like India vs Pakistan finals? Everybody becomes weirdly serious. Even my younger brother was sitting quietly in the corner eating Kurkure and staring at me like I was about to get voted out of a reality show.

I tried distracting myself for some time. Opened Instagram. Biggest mistake of my life.

People had already started posting:
“Hard work pays off”
“Proud of myself”
“98.6%”

Brother ewww.

I immediately closed the app because suddenly I was convinced I had failed every subject including English, which is embarrassing because this diary entry itself is in English.

By 11:42 my body had fully betrayed me.

Hands sweaty.

Heart beating way too fast.

Leg shaking like crazy.

Stomach doing cartwheels.

I kept getting random thoughts every two seconds:
“What if I fail math?”
“What if everyone scores better than me?”
“What if my result doesn’t load and technically I remain academically unborn forever?”

And the worst part is that waiting somehow feels worse than the actual result.

Because when you don’t know what’s about to happen, your brain becomes Netflix. It starts creating dramatic storylines nobody asked for.

Suddenly I was imagining:

• becoming “the disappointing cousin”
• deleting WhatsApp forever
• avoiding eye contact with society
• running away to the mountains and starting a peaceful goat farm

All before a PDF even loaded.

Apparently this whole panic mode is called the fight-or-flight response. Your brain thinks something huge and dangerous is happening, so it releases stress chemicals like adrenaline and cortisol.

Which is honestly so dramatic because no tiger is chasing me.

It’s literally marks.

But your body doesn’t know the difference. So your heart races, your palms sweat, and your brain starts overthinking every life decision you’ve ever made since Class 3.

At around 11:51, the page finally loaded for TWO seconds before crashing again.

I almost screamed.

Mumma from outside:
“AAYA??”

ME:
“NO IT LEFT AGAIN.”

By then the entire family had gathered behind me. I could FEEL people breathing near my shoulders. Why do Indian families watch results together like it’s a public event? Please let me fail privately if needed.

Then finally.

FINALLY.

The page opened properly.

My marks appeared.

I just stared at the screen for a solid five seconds because my brain stopped processing numbers. Everything went weirdly silent for a moment.

And then?

Nothing dramatic happened.

The world didn’t end.

Nobody fainted.

The ceiling fan continued spinning peacefully.

Mumma just said, “Achha hai,” after causing me emotional damage for four hours straight.

Honestly, after all that panic, the actual result felt almost anticlimactic.

But those few minutes before checking it?

Actually terrifying.

I think I aged emotionally by at least 12 years before noon.