wow...cindy, no | lgbt+

4

Waking up to the sound of my alarm tonight was harder than I thought it would be. But through my fear of my math teachers, I  can conquer many things.

My books lay in a mess of colored pencils, and a mug of cold coffee I served half an hour ago but forgot to take a sip of. There are also notebooks I still haven't used. All of it is shuffled together above my desk table that is lit by the yellow light emanated from a lamp sitting above it.

The only thing that's sort of organized among the mess is the stack of flashcards on which I have been scribbling on all night.

Time has to be one of the most annoying things in life. It passes slowly when you get yourself in trouble, or when you're around people you don't like. But the worse is when you need it to slow down for the love of God. Because you know you won't possibly be able to study enough of the material you need for your test. That's when time pulls you a big middle finger.

At this rate, I won't even be able to keep my C minus in math. After the test tomorrow I'll land at an F. Well, technically after the test today, since it's already four in the morning. I could swear I began studying only an hour ago, but it's already been three hours.

What's more depressing is that I'm still not sure I understand these quadratic equations and geometric progression things any more than before I opened my books. 

Who am I kidding? I can't do this without Mara. But I can't bring myself to ask again after I ruined our study session last night with my crush problems.

At this point I'm still scanning my books and flipping through pages, but it's all mechanical. I can't focus. And quite honestly, I don't have the talent for mathematics anymore. The mathematician in me died when middle school ended.

I can recognize it when my brain enters strike mode. That is now.

If I try not to be pessimistic, it's just one more grade. Finals will only come in three months. My flashcards won't be that useful this time around. I have no idea what I even wrote on half of them. But I'm sure I'll thank myself later. On the negative side of things though: I'll be walking on eggshells around Mrs. Gilbert until I'm able to redeem myself with a B at least.

I don't even know how that would happen after a C minus and a likely F after this test.

Mom won't join the party this time at least, since she doesn't care enough to ask about my grades anymore. I have that in my favor. 

I have the feeling it is just a matter of time until she starts bothering me again though. Call it what you want: masochism, Stockholm syndrome. But sometimes I catch myself wishing she'd get back to her detective mode again. Her normal self. At least then, I will know what she's thinking. I don't like to have to guess her thoughts while picking glances at her during chokingly silent dinners.

I'm torn between staying awake until it's time to go to school or sleeping during the time I have left. Three short hours of sleep won't amount to much, but I eventually surrender to my tiredness and slump on my bed sheets with my clothes on.