A Wall.

This is it. This is the test you’ve been working towards your whole life.

I skim the edge of the paper with the end of my finger tip. The epidermis of the skin slices thinly, and a bead of red fills the gap.

I feel my heart racing. I hear my skull begin to crack under the pressure.

Come on, you can do this!

My eardrums pop from the rising ringing in my ears.


The oxygen is sucked out of my lungs, and then I’m drowning.
And as I gasp for breath, I remember where I am.
I get peculiar stares, and I hear scribbling of pencils filling in bubbles.

Then, I see you.
You glance at the clock if only for a moment. Then your eyes glance to me.

I approach a wall that stops me in my tracks, and I accept that I’ll never climb.
But the look you gave me that did not last not even five seconds, told me I can.

I can.

“I can do this.”

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