Final Hell

As I stood in my high school’s vestibule Thursday afternoon, with its high windows stretching from its floor to its pyramid-like ceiling, I could hear the obnoxious roar of students chatting behind me as they raced to their 6th period exam. I knew that at this time, I should be walking amongst that crowd of juveniles, but my body was crying in pain and the peach-colored skin of my face had been replaced by skin that had the sickly color of a gray rain cloud. I was now the newest victim of my suburban town’s influenza epidemic, and to be honest, I couldn’t be anymore grateful.

After a good 20 minutes of being trapped in the vestibule, my dad finally picked me up and took me home. There, I immediately crashed on my unmade bed. My body was ravaged with exhaustion as the flu virus continued to infiltrate every cell that composed me.  But not only was my body feeling totally devoid of energy, so was my brain.  Why? Well I had spent most of my free hours this past week with my head stuffed in textbooks because it was finals week – the dreaded week where teachers give out horrendously difficult exams (aka “finals”) in order to see if you are capable of regurgitating the knowledge that had been stuffed down your throat over the course of the semester.

Though I have a track record of acing my science and French exams, I have always struggled with math.  I do not know if that is because math has always been my first exam of the week or if it is because I am a complete dufus when it comes to trig functions and radians. Whatever the reason, I always do poorly on the exam.

And despite the hours of studying and watching Khan Academy videos, this year was no different . . . except for one thing. You see, I am usually able to pull off a C for my math final, but this year I decided to switch it up a little and get a F**KING F!

Yep, you read that right! I completely failed my math exam . . . .COMPLETELY.

I blame this horrific grade on the panic attack I suffered during the WHOLE exam period. From the minute the exam started to the minute the bell rang for us to close our exam packets, my heart bounded like a bass drum beneath my chest and my hands shook uncontrollably. I felt like I was a prisoner to the anxiety – trapped inside my body as the anxiety took control over every aspect of my mind.
But panic attack or not, my grade for the exam is still a F.  In my eyes this grade not only grades my exam, it also grades me as a person. My heart is an F. My dreams are an F. Oh and that soul of mine, that’s an F too.

Why can’t I just be like one of the smart kids for once? Why?

Just why?