award for class clown in 6th grade

There's a rumbling behind my eyes that tells me there's bullseyes nearby. I feel a tapping sound behind my cornea. There's a well there with a growing hole. I can't remember, the last time I won an award for class clown in 6th grade. My mouth fills with blood as I bite a line through my tongue. I feel a growing pain in my skull. Is it full-sized yet? I can't see my award for class clown in 6th grade. I stand in the hallway of this art school building before a mirage of potential-again, no award, did they forget to hang it up? My fingernail digs a line into my palm. I envision my printer paper with golden letters of my Firstname, Lastname besides 18x24s. There's a bile in the back of my throat, it might reach my vision.