It’ll be over, soon enough.
Just one more week. And only 3 papers, counting the one I’ll be giving in 5 hours. That’s not so bad, right?
Except I feel completely unprepared. And I’ve had quite a few breakdowns in the past one day. It’s really all my fault. If only I’d started working from the beginning. Or at least 3 days ago. Or even 2. ‘Next time’, I promise myself after every nerve-wrecking exam; the next one I’ll do properly, work hard and space it out. And yet it’s always the same story. It’s like an annoying song you find yourself humming no matter how many times you yell at yourself to stop.
Have I mentioned the panic attacks? They make my chest suddenly warm up in an unpleasant manner while I go cold everywhere else. This pit inside my chest opening and sucking everything into the dark, the warm, musty air engulfing everything in its murky fog.
I don’t see the results being any good. I don’t like disappointing people—especially not myself.