this imploding heart

Like I am cinderella and math is my evil stepmother

An Ode to My Final

And lo, though you were eleven pages long, I galloped through you like a white knight atop a fine steed. Weilding my trusty TI-85, I sliced through your parabolas and vertexes.

Alas! What horror should befall me but Logarithms! Yes, Logarithms, whose ambling rules I desperately attempted to commit to memory, crept upon me like deaths chill. Though I fought with valor, points were laid to rest upon that battlefield.

So it was okay. I did, in fact, go home and throw up after working myself into an unnecessary lather. It's been a while since the last time the panic monster moved into my lungs and clenched my stomach up tight.

I had a little case of the shakes for all the rest of that night. Cake kept saying "It's over! What's wrong with you? It's done!", and I tried to explain.

I know it's done. I know there's nothing to be that upset about. That's not the point.

It's like when my mom starts coughing and can't stop until she throws up. Something triggers your body into doing something, and your body, for whatever reason, just keeps doing it well after the trigger is gone. Like a panic hangover, almost.
I made lentils and spinach in soy sauce for dinner, did a little self medicating, and went to bed.

This morning when I left the house to walk to work, the sun was shining and the sky was spotty blue. I felt my whole chest expand with relief, like I had just finished washing a million dishes and now I can go to the ball.

Posted by Sonya at December 17, 2003 12:53 PM