God, I am trying. Pen hovering above paper. Hovering. Hovering. Hovering. Not a scribble. Not a line. Not even a scratch on the page to test my pen. What was I reading again? I reread the sentence. How did imperialism affect sovereignty to nations? I’m suck. I suck. Freaking suck. How? How? How? It’s the only word I can comprehend. Okay. One down. Did. Easy. Did is easy. The easiest in fact. Did. Imperialism? What was imperialism again? Was that the one with the Philippines? Or maybe that was just an example? Or maybe that was a whole other unit. God, I promise I am trying. This is the imperialism unit test and I don’t even know the definition. God, please, I am trying so hard. It hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts. My brain is cooked spaghetti in boiling water, soggy, surrounded by clouded liquid. Heavy. My chest is heavy. Heavier than it’s ever felt. No. That’s a lie. I’m a liar. Like they say. It’s as heavy. It’s as heavy as when you were on top of me. You’re here aren’t you? Your spirit, your ghost, whatever you call it. You’re here. You’re like a magnet near a computer. You’re scrambling my thoughts into jumbled letters that form incoherent words. You’re pulling. Pulling me closer. Closer. Closer. Until there is no more space left between. I’m the closest two people can be. And God, I am trying. God, I am trying to ignore this pain. God, there is a feeling so deep in me so full of pain. God, help. God, why did you let him inside of me, inside of my classroom, on top of me? God, why did I meet him? God? God? God? Make it stop. Make it stop. End this please. Morphine overdose, pan hard down on the head, please something. I mean it. God, I am trying just please stop this pain. Please.

“Alright everyone that’s a wrap,” My teacher flails his arms, gesturing for us to lower our writing utensils. I blink, hard. But I didn’t read more than the first words? Another F.