Dear Exam,

It's like you knew that I had spent long nights, revved on a cup (or a few) of black coffee and self-hatred, notes in one hand, the other hand in my hair.

It's like you knew my notes were wrinkled and slightly torn from all of the times I flipped through the pages or jammed the notebook into my backpack after a quick study session. It's like you knew that even on nights when I'd called it quits early (or got kicked out of some campus building for being there too late), giving up my studies for a few precious hours of sleep, that I still lay awake, stressed, knowing that I could be studying. It's like you knew that I had adopted a state of ugly for an entire week, minimal showers, hair barely combed, and an not a speck of makeup to my face. It's like you knew that I had juggled all of the possibilities of this exam and how it could affect my grade, and therefore, my GPA. It's like you knew all of these things, yet you wanted to watch me crash and burn all at once.

I always told myself that some Ls (losses) were okay, but I was in no mood for an L this time. I studied harder than ever, my notes were impeccable, and my review strategies were nearly flawless. I was motivated and defiant; I was going to get an A, and there was nothing an exam like you could do about it, even with your tricky questions and material that had never been covered before in class. For this exam, I didn't even need a wish of good luck from a friend, seeing as I didn't need luck. I was locked and ready to rock.

Kill this exam. Kill this exam. Kill this exam.

The mantra repeated in my head as I approached my usual seat. I sat down, confident as ever, whipped out my pencils, and waited for an exam to be placed in front of me.

I was given an exam, put my name on it, and flicked to the second page.

Problem 1) I got this. I so don't got this. Problem 2) Not again, I repeated the same process with problems 3, 4, and 5. This isn't what I signed up for.

You could've brought me to tears right then in there, but I couldn't be the crazy person crying in the middle of the room. Instead, you brought on something worse. I could feel my face getting hot, my breathing getting heavy, and the sweat beading on my body. I was a disaster, and it's like you were doing this to just torture me.

I'm in a horrible place, and this is because of you, you blasted exam. I felt my confidence crumble like a pile of bricks. Slowly, in front of me, my dreams were crumbling. I was going to miss all five questions (and possibly more), I was going to fail the exam, and my career would never become a reality.

Yeah, it had to be because you were torturing me because you knew how hard I prepared. I suffered through it, you know, but that's okay.

Actually, it's not. It killed me a lot inside. Until we meet again, impossible exam.

Sincerely,

Struggling Student