Every Path Has Its Muddle

It’s 9:15 a.m and I already feel debilitated. I just arrived at school, mind adrift, body unsteady, trying so hard to make out what my classmates are saying but I just want to go home. 42 hours without sleep isn’t exactly what I’d signed for. I’ve been questioning my decisions these past few months. 

“Anxiety is taking over me. Did you see the professor's face? She’s undeniably unimpressed.” One of them uttered.

It was the first thing I was able to make out from all the murmurs lingering in the background. My chalky pallor was unavoidable but others looked as faint as I did. Now, despite looking extremely unwell, I was content with the results of my tiny model. Two days and two nights of designing and gluing; not my kind of all-nighter if you ask me. At some point I stood still, balsa wood in my right hand, glue in the left one, just browsing through my memory archive. Why did I ever choose this major in the first place? Yes, my eyes always widen at the beauty of magnificent structures but that does not mean it’s my calling. I pity myself for having endless interests. 

“Oh, God. She already saw mine and her expression was filled with disgust. That’s it. I’m doomed.” Another classmate approached, her face smudged with loathing. 

“I honestly don’t think anyone passed this round.” Well, I could frankly care less. Two days of involuntary sleeplessness can turn a stable mind insane. 

My mind wanders again. This is the type of thing no one should ever consider if they also work, unless they’re geniuses and can handle many things at once, especially under pressure. 

I teach English sort of full time and, even though it isn’t exactly a difficult job, rushing from work to home to fulfill my duties as a responsible student is far from ideal. But I do it and I’m regretting every bit of it. I’m thinking about the unthinkable now, not sleeping can easily distort one’s mind. I’m crouching in a less lighted corner, waiting for the professor to come out and shoot us all with her unsavory comments. 

“She’s taking too damn long. I’m desperate.” So are the rest of us. 

“I’m so damn tired of this crap. If she fails me, I’m out.” Count me in on this one. 

“What about you? What do you think she’ll say about yours?” My closest peer points at me. The rest followed with their hungry eyes. 

“What about me?” I’ve realized this is the first time I spoke since I got here today. 

“You usually do well. Do you think you’ll pass?” I shrugged. I may have done well before yet I feel like this time around I definitely did not score. 

We were all craving, starving to get answers, expecting the expected, and honestly, no longer caring if they were either positive or negative. We just wanted to go home. It’s our midterm so once she tells us the unwanted outcome, we can all bounce. 

There’s a bitter taste on the tip of my tongue, the effects of this neverending stress might be making me sick. I don’t only look sick, I feel like it now. I turn my head to the wall and close my eyes as impatience drills my head. 

“We’re all going downstairs to get some food. Wanna come?” My friend puts her hand on my shoulder. She seems worried. 

“No, it’s ok. My legs won’t work.” My voice came out as weak as my entire body. 

“I can get you something if you’d like. Want anything?” The look of concern on her face makes me uneasy. 

“Yeah, sure. Anything’s fine.” And they all hurried down the stairs. Heck, it looked like a stampede. 

I don’t think it was such a great idea for me to stay alone here with my thoughts. They sure can seize one’s entirety. And at this very moment I do not want to be reminded of the things I could’ve been doing now, the things I could’ve been making now. If I could give my younger self career advice, I’d tell her to follow her true passion -cliché, I know, I’m aware of that- or her “innate” abilities. Can you write? Become a writer. Do you have a knack for languages? Study them. I may not be too old to achieve those things now but it would’ve been great to have discovered those then. I wouldn’t have wasted so much time sulking and complaining about every little thing -and this is something I’m incredibly good at. Decisions, decisions, and more decisions. Someone shouldn’t allow me to make any more decisions. 

“We got you some chocolate and some cookies.” A tall girl came running towards me, she was not out of breath to my surprise. The rest of the herd came walking while conversing amiably. Food can surely alter one’s mood. 

“Any news?” My friend asked. She no longer had a frown drawn on her friendly face. 

“Sadly, no.” 

“We’re going to rot in here.” Sighs is all we got left. 

This whole waiting contest is devouring my insides. If we don’t pass this midterm, we’ll have to ace the final one in order to pass with a C-. What a cruel system we’re putting ourselves through. I am not one with patience, and if this is the ultimate test, I failed the minute I got here. The longer it takes, the more I want to throw in the towel. Or at least throw it on my professor’s face. 

It’s 11:38 a.m yet I swear it’s been weeks. Some of my classmates went inside the classroom on their tippy toes to see if the professor was done correcting but, much to our discontentment, she came to us instead. I stay still and let my eye bags do the talking. We all look visibly impatient. Our professor just grins diabolically. 

“Well, ain’t all of that a disappointment.” We swallowed hard. Nothingness scratching our throats. 

“What do you mean by that, pr-professor?” My friend stuttered. None of us blinked. 

“Yeah, you guys did terribly. Everything was atrocious to the eye. My God, what a bunch of trash.” Her melodic mockery gets me every time. Though she wasn’t being sarcastic this time. 

I’m a big fan of hers but I am this close to pushing her down the stairs and she’s right next to it. Silence entered the room. 

“You were the only one that got a satisfactory score though.” She looked at me and everyone’s face veered wildly. I’ve never felt this self-conscious in my entire existence. I’m sure one of them is about to cry right here, right now. 

“No one else?” Someone shrieked. 

“Nope. You can all go now and take your models or toss them in the trash. I might give you a chance to bring me another model if I’m feeling nice. Except for you, of course. It’s not like you did wonderfully either but you still managed. Anyway, I’m famished so I’m out. See you kids next week.” My professor said humorously. Evil became her. 

My classmates did not think about it twice and dashed. I’m calm now but my brain is shutting down. I’m in dire need of a good day's sleep. 

“You got a B-. Everyone else got D’s and F’s. You’re one lucky b. Not even the star of the class made it…” My friend said, then proceeded to fulminate at the injustice done to the rest of them. And as she spits fire, I smile broadly at the fact that I’d already made up my mind two hours ago.