University Horror Story

Panic.

Exams are coming.

However far you run or blissfully ignore them, there is no way to escape their presence. You can see them in the steady stream of students swallowed by the library doors. You can see them in the coffees, the Red Bulls, the drawn tiredness of students who studied too long into the night. I can feel them now, as I hurriedly type. Should I be studying? Probably. Even a temporary respite feels like a betrayal. I won’t fail, can’t fail now, there is too much on the line. It is the culmination of weeks of studying, papers, endless reading assignments. So, I keep my eyes open, even when they yearn to slide shut. It may be 2:00 in the morning, but I don’t care. There is a strange adrenaline running through my veins. The type that only comes from absolute dread as I sense the monster approaching ever closer. I should have known when I first discovered the operating hours at the UGLi. I should have known when there were two therapy dog sessions within one week. I should have known after midterms. But the characters in a horror story always run into the abandoned asylum despite every glaring warning sign.

So, run.

But you can’t escape.

I hope that this gets easier because the tests certainly never stop. I thought the spelling tests in third grade were the biggest challenges, until I confronted the SAT. After approximately seven SAT study guides, there was AP testing and endless college applications. Tests are the perfect representative of a society that has grown more scientific, calculated, and objective. They are impartial, uncompromising, which is why we put so much faith in them. They give us clear black and white answers instead of relying on undependable humans to judge intangible qualities. They play on our need for approval. They are proof that we are talented, worthy, valuable. Unfortunately, they are also temporary bandages, a solution in disguise, because there is always another one. Although, tests may try to rank our best qualities, but I don’t think they bring out the best in us. I look around and hope that no one is judging me when I turn my back. I measure my conversations carefully in case that it is more than a conversation. It is a subtle paranoia that scares me as much as any haunted house.

It can’t be stopped.

I still wish I had a chainsaw.

So why do I keep trying to live up to these arbitrary standards? Like a trained seal, I keep jumping through the hoops for the treat that never seems to come. I know the answer that I’m supposed to give, the one that has been ingrained in me. It’s for the knowledge, the joy of learning. But ever-growing pit in the bottom of my stomach seems to disprove that theory entirely. I am perversely glad for the lack of clarity though, only to prove that life is not a test with clear rights and wrongs. I know I should be studying right now (Or at least sleeping….it is 3 am in the morning after all). My brain is gasping as I race to the finish line. This tortuous cycle is almost over. I’m glad we’re here together.

I collapse into sleep.

Peace.