Death of a Dream

     My eyelids hung low over my eyes as I fought to stay conscious. My hair was messy, while I struggled out of bed and got ready for school. Everything felt soft to the touch as my body was still waking up. Hurriedly I scampered around the house, picking up my notes and text book and throwing them carelessly into my back pack. My gut dropped as I realized that I had forgotten to study for my exam yet again. I marched out my door, ready to accept my fate. It was my last exam. The school was a prison, ready to lock me up for the next 4 hours and test me. I scanned around the room and could see fear in the eyes of my peers. My joints ached as I sat down to read my notes again. People came up to ask me questions about topics on the test. My answer was a blank stare. My mind screamed at me. I should have studied; I should have cared more. Excuses ran through my mind. My lips curled around the rim of my third coffee. The aroma of caffeine and regret filled my nostrils. My hands shook, and my body quivered. I was unprepared. This was the first time I’d ever put something off this long. The constant reminder that I was going to fail paralyzed me. I tried to skim my notes. Faster and faster I read, but nothing was being absorbed, these were just meaningless words on a piece of paper. “F=(1/2dta)/G? What does this even mean” were the only words that slipped out of my mouth that day. There was a frenzy of both excitement and fright filling the room. Hastily I glanced at the clock, aware that it was counting down to my doom. This was going to break my confidence, my dreams, and my future. My reservoir of hope was quickly drying up. Anxiety crept up from my fingers, until it embraced my body. The person on the PA announced that it was time to enter.