The Third PANIC

The gauntlet of back to back closed-book exams is among the most onerous of trials a man can face. This morning, I took my M&A final. While it wasn't quite the reenactment of a scene for the television series Oz, I can without a doubt say that those four hours were in the bottom five hours of my academic career. I think Michael Scott can adequately sum up my feelings:

"It feels like somebody took my heart, and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears. And at the same time, somebody else is hitting my soul in the crotch with a frozen sledgehammer. And then a third guy walks in and starts punching me in the grief bone. And I am crying. And nobody can hear me, because I am terribly, terribly... terribly alone."

Thank you, Michael. Nevertheless, I have to boot and rally (awww, remember booting and rallying? I miss that.) and study my ass off for tomorrow's exercise in futility, international law. The exam. Not the actual field of study. Ok. Maybe both.

In any case, the last thing I felt like doing today is studying. Nevertheless, I was duty bound to do so, and must keep going.

It's like finals is a baseball game. And, after getting knocked around by the first few batters, I just beaned a guy. Now everyone's mad at me. Especially my professor, who is reading my final right now and booing. He looks angry. If only I could explain to him that I could barely read the exam through the tears.

And the guy I just beaned? Is that blood? He's not moving. Oh crap. The guy's not moving. I think he's dead. I think I killed him. They just took him to the tunnel leading to the clubhouse. And the doctors, they don't look optimistic. And now I'm being asked by my manager to refocus, shake it off, and pitch to this next guy. But how am I supposed to do that? I think I hear a sustained beep in the distance. Is that the sound flatlining makes? I just shivered. Did an angel get his wings?

Who's the guy I just killed anyway?

(Looks to scoreboard)

Legal Career.

Crap.