I cried. I cried so much that the
salty tears began to nest in my freshly trimmed mustache. The few that slipped
through my densely packed patch of manhood landed softly on my lips. The taste
of these droplets reminded me of the time I went snorkeling in Hawaii; the
great Pacific Ocean rendered the same brackish water as my tear ducts.
Dejectedly, I leaned forward in my seat to stare blankly at the math exam before
me. Pathetic scribbles marred the once white paper, and I began to feel sick to
my stomach thinking of the tree that gave its life for this test. I wished with
all my weak, beaten down heart that I could make this poor tree proud by
getting a good mark. We were companions, and alongside us was my pencil, whose
fathering sapling also urged me on my way. These are the prominent thoughts in
my mind during a math test, causing my brain to wander in spite of the ominous
project before me. My eyes rolled like two glass balls behind my thin eyelids
and came at rest upon the clock. Twenty more minutes of sheer agony. My body
shook violently, or perhaps it was my mind. At this point it all mixed together
into a sluggish lagoon of despair. I drew from inside my mind the remnants of
my knowledge and forced them to sit between the last few questions. I pushed
myself against gravity to stand tall and proud despite my broken soul. With a
slight skip in my step to uphold a positive appearance, I flew out of the exam
room and straight to my car. However, as I scooted smoothly from the parking
lot I released this charade and once again began to cry.
