Two

I wish I could remember what I wrote to get over my finals, for I guess I made a kind of tour de force in order to turn in two papers for the very same day, as a kind of exchange for two final examinations. As I typed the conclusions for both essays I felt certain pride about them since I worked quite hard to fulfill such high expectations. Maybe I felt great about having forgotten my heart-out and wrote two worth-reading essays too, that is, I didn't flunk any of those subjects. I got rid of the previous failure and wrote on.

Obviously, one of the papers was better than the other. It dealt with the possibilities of alternative scenes in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, which only take place in the void of elliptical gaps, creating an interesting flow in theatrical structure that seems to go by only. Honestly, it was one of the best papers I turned in during my studies, not mention my professor found it acceptable. The other paper, in turn, was less better, though it deserves certain acknowledgement, since I wrote it for the same demanding teacher. I'm still surprised by the way I wrote things that had been already written before, yet he let that go and gave me a good note. I don't remember what it dealt with.

On that day I handed two final papers and did two exams on a row, but I don't remember uneasiness in the run. I just tried not to think of what I could feel due to the background I was in or of lacking oxygen and breaking down in the middle of the room. Rain and hail just kept hammering down but I stayed cool, as the weather outside. I'm not sure if, by the end of my final journey as a student, I had a headache--I was confused by other circumstances, though. Once I left the classroom I asked the professor for another sort of information, just to show some interest in the alternative project he had previously let us know.

When I left the building I realized about what I had just done and the pressure made me feel tired. I thought I could sleep for three days, but a friend of mine and I walked to the subway and took our separate ways. On my way home I never thought of the outcome of my effort. The futility in it was irrelevant and I could only plan the strategies to make my way out if my work failed to achieve its goal. In that moment nothing else mattered, just the things that would come then.