Shaking

My hands stick to the pencil as if they're covered in partially dried glue. I place the pencil on the paper by my point at (3,0) turns into a spastic scribble. My hands are shaking badly. I feel it run down my legs and before I know it my entire desk is vibrating drastically. I can feel the sweat well on my forehead and I can practically smell my fear. The clock face smiles menacingly at me. Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, you're running out of time. I recall the last quiz I took and remembered how I had snapped the little clip off my pen without hesitation. I begin to pray for some phenomenon to stop the test; projectile vomit all over, sudden insanity with which I tear the top from my desk, a meteor to drop through the roof and crush me. It becomes apparent that that won't happen and I try to take a more positive look on the situation. I think about how I looked over my homework the night before and got up early to review it with my teacher. I've tried my hardest and I won't be stopped by my bad case of  the jiggy-leg. I grab my highlighter and bite down on it. It slows my breath and keeps my shaking to a minimum. I drop into a different mind set that's more closely related to that of somebody in the Alamo. I'm not going down without a fight. If the Hulk had incredible aggression and an uncanny knowledge of logarithms, that's who I'd be most like at that time. I finished and practically expected my highlighter to be broken in two and my pencil to be releasing a small ribbon of smoke. I look at the calendar and realize that the test isn't over yet. The second part of the test is next week. Once again I begin praying for some amazing power to put me in a coma. I'm really getting sick of school.

I am on the brink of insanity. As I grow closer to the end of school my mind slowly becomes more of a fun-starved, shrivelled, receded thing buried deep within a pile of grey matter. My overall mood has degraded into a jittery, on-edge kind of mood that could change from happiness to anger very quickly. I wake up and my arms and legs scream at me in an especially agonizing way, and my reflection in the pool frowns and waves another assignment in my face. Adults tell me that their life is harder than mine but I don't think it is. I see the bills they pay and the job they do, and although their initial task is more difficult than mine, they can be happy with their living. They come home and smile and say, "Well done, another day, another dollar, my family won't go hungry this week." I come home and look at myself and realize that I'm no better than I was. I have no responsibility and nothing to work towards. I can't drive or drink but I'm always welcome to do the dishes or sit up in my seat when I eat. But I'll do the dishes and try to sit straight because I know that when I have even the slightest amount of actual influence on my own life, I'll do whatever I want whenever I want to. Now you might be saying,
"But Zombie, doesn't your attitude and outlook on life make you a better person more prepared for the future therefore influencing your life?"
Then, I'd respond with,
"sure it does. Of course, that's in a world where money doesn't talk and power doesn't fall in the hands of stupid and evil people who lead an army of stupid people. A world where smiles and positive outlook answers all the questions on my math test and cure cancer. Where I feel like I'm just as important as everybody else. That's when I'll be positive."

It's especially hard to feel involved in learning unimportant facts when even the teachers have become tired of it. The common core requirements that were enacted this year have made Carper especially uneasy and even my father has grown bored of it. There are a few teachers who still hold their heads high for the job that they love. Mr E. will never waver and Mrs. C will help all desperate math students no matter what grade they have. These teachers will be the the captains who slowly sink with the ship that is the current public education system. They don't get paid enough because the district thinks that the student's success should judge how the teacher is paid, paying no heed to the children who just won't learn ever.

Now I'm done talking about everything that's wrong with everything and how everybody in the world is insane except for me. Did I rant a little? Yes. Did I go off subject? Sure. Does everything I wrote reflect a single and very insignificant thing I just happened to be thinking about? I guess so.  I apologize if that sounded negative but I'm not in a positive mood and I'm tired of writing about my week and how happy I pretend to be. Fret not, I'll awake tomorrow morning in a great and friendly mood ready to conquer the day, but eventually this feeling will come back and I might write about it again. Now I'm going to stare at homework that should be finished. Long days and pleasant nights.

Death Metal because I like it! May contain curse words.