I walk through the door, my mind racing with dread. “Just one more week,” I tell myself, hoping that those four words will calm my nerves. Just one more hectic week, and then three blissful months of summer vacation. I try to envision my vacation plans, but my thoughts are abruptly interrupted when the bell rings, announcing the beginning of the end. 

I make a quick stop at my locker and attempt to fix my disheveled hair. Late night cram studying has left bags under my tired brown eyes, and royally ruined my sleep schedule as well. I take one last look at my locker and then head off to class, pulling the hood of my oversized sweatshirt out from under my bookbag straps. As I weave through the maze of crowded halls, I look at the bland grey walls around me. Faceless people pass by, all of them preoccupied with phones and casual conversation. I eventually make my way towards first hour, and  walk into the sterile classroom. The room itself, once covered in bright posters and old projects, now looks as bland as the halls. With the first step, the tension in the air rises, and I can feel the weight of my bag growing heavier on my shoulders with each passing second. 

Tests and exams have always been a breeding ground for anxiety in my eyes. To me it is nothing new, but this year’s finals are different. Up until yesterday, I thought I was exempt, but now I have to take six exams that I am not prepared for. The pressure grows heavier and heavier as I think about it more. “ I’m not ready,” “I’m going to fail,” “Why didn’t I study regardless?” The thoughts circle in my mind, growing louder as panic sets in. The ticking of the clock snaps me back into reality as I look around. The teacher addresses the class, giving us one final “Good luck,” before we open the exam. Everyone opens their chromebooks, and in a matter of seconds we begin. 

I take a deep breath, hoping that I remember everything from the night before. Everything seems fine at first, and for a moment I escape the shadow of anxiety looming over me. This twinkle of hope does not last for long, and I finally stumble upon questions that I don’t understand. I attempt to maintain my composure, but panic rushes through. My eyes wander first around the screen, then to the rest of the room as I struggle to retain the answer. My eyes meet the clock, and once again its ticking snaps me out of it. I turn my focus back to the screen, forcing my eyes to stare on the question at hand. Even with fixed eyes, my mind wanders to other concerns. “Did I miss that question two pages ago?” “I don’t understand,” “Is there enough time to finish this exam?” As the thoughts keep turning in my head, the pressure grows heavier and heavier. I feel the looming shadow of anxiety behind me once again, staring while the fluorescent lights spotlight my every move.  

The more I try to focus on the exam, the worse my concentration gets. With each passing question my anxiety screams louder and louder. Eventually its panicked cries overpower all other thoughts in my head, and I am overwhelmed in a sea of doubt.  For a second I close my eyes, trying desperately to calm down and just relax. Finally, the sounds of my worries are drowned out by the silence of the room. At last, I can focus on a single thing, and once again turn my focus back to the exam. I still don’t understand every question, but just make my best guess and keep going. After what seems like an eternity, I finish, and hit submit.

I take a final look at the clock and breathe a sigh of relief. This may not mark the end, but it at least means that I have one foot out the door. I know the shadow will be back, most likely sooner than later, but at this point it is inevitable. My anxiety is just something that I have to deal with, and hopefully with time, can be something more manageable. The worst is yet to come, but really the only thing I can do is brace myself and hope for the best.