From a Computer Terminal at UVM

Control. Gotta keep control. Gotta keep my face from turning red and my voice from shaking and the tears from spilling outa my blurry eyes. Gotta get through this by any means possible, because if I can't...

if I can't, I can't, I can't I can't I can't

and now I'm crying again.

I dig my thumbnail into my finger and I bite my lip to keep control, keep control, and I'm imagining I'll be sitting at my desk in the exact center of the UVM classroom with blood running down my chin and I'll say Gomenasai and rush out of the classroom and I won't care because it's an excuse to get away from the test.

It's just a test. I didn't panic about the SATs, the ACTs, midterms and finals and midterms again but this, a Japanese chapter test, has me crying silently in the bathroom stall and gasping for breath in the car. It's just a test, but it's more than a test now, because I can't even look at the words I need to study without panicking because I don't know them; it's more than a test because I've lost control.

My hands shake a little. My legs can't support the weight of me and my backpack both. I wobble when I walk. I can't get myself back to equilibrium, can't find my balance, I can't, I can't, I can't I can't I can't

I must.