Members of the alumni body, the teaching staff, the non teaching staff and even the principals of both the schools were waiting for the show to begin. I was not interested in delaying my exit. With my decorous school blazer on my shoulders I left the limelight in search of some peace, but the chilly air and the lonely road wasn’t comforting either. The hostel doors opened as I showed the gate keeper my special permission letter. I ignored the “Awe’s” and “oh’s” as I passed by the common room. Who would have imagined my dream year in Doon High would have such a pity Christmas? Climbing the stairs to my room was a herculean task and once atop I collapsed into my bed of sorrows. No dinner, no sweets, and no change of clothes. I was the laughing stock for over a week. Although I was bothered by their jibes but it never interfered with my focus on either studies or sports. The roots of my depression were not as shallow as their opinions. What they thought of me wasn’t important. What I had made out of myself was…
7 Ways Through Sunday 
And your point is...