I have never been blessed with test anxiety. Which means, in the passed twelve years of my life, I have never once been afraid of taking a test. There’s just no point.

The way I see it, a test is just a piece of paper with questions on it. If someone threw it at me, it wouldn’t hurt. If it appeared in my dreams, I wouldn’t scream. So why, when I can easily tear it apart, should I be afraid of a test?

 With that in mind, it should be noted that I was not afraid to take my math final this morning. No. However, I did feel a sense of doom. Perhaps it was the bug i found in the bread bag this morning, or maybe the way my toast burned just the right way so i would hate it, but as I stared at my test, I suddenly realized the weight it carried.

The next year of my life depends on whether or not I pass this one, simple, useless, math test.

And then the doom was gone, the bell rang, and I headed out the door.

School is over. My future is unplanned and undetermined. I have no idea what to do next.

It feels like…when a plane takes off.

You’re on a solid ground, you can feel it beneath you. And then a soft jolt, a minute awareness of weightlessness, and you look out the window to realize the ground you are so used to is getting farther and farther away.

Of course, this is about the point I would think of how screwed I am if the plane malfunctions, but…fate can’t screw me over that badly…can it?