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If there's anything that I'm sure of right now, it's this: I am not ready for the week that's about to come.
Final exams, to be more specific.
It's that time of the school year where all the weighted efforts and stress that you've been carrying on the back of your shoulders (and that have been so large enough to engulf you in its shadow with each and every step you take) for the past few months are forcibly compressed into a span of five days.
That's about more than 1000 hours of nausea and panic squished into 120 hours.
Personally, I think what makes this week the most dreadful time of a school year isn't because of how packed and loaded it is, but rather the thought of the whole week being 30% of your final grade.
It's also the week wherein trained adults, who've been paid to evaluate your work all day, equate your tremendous hard-work (and grueling hours of sleepless nights) into hollow numbers with a size 10 Times New Roman font on your report card.
It certainly helps knowing that a single failure to submit one schoolwork, no matter how big or small the activity may be (like a five question worksheet), will 100% guarantee you an "Incomplete Mark" on your report card; which is basically a marking system that indicates your failure to reach a subject's requirements, thus deducting you an honor role despite all your grades qualifying for it. How exciting.
I can already sense the paranoia looming over me.
Refusing to blink even for a millisecond,
Its eyes locked in,
observing closely.
Waiting for a moment,
A split second moment.
A moment
of vulnerability.
A moment
to strike.
And it's making me extremely uncomfortable.
Anyways brb gonna go get oreos and dunk them in milk like LeBron James
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