My name is Lillian. I'm 17 and a high school student.
I really love the arts: painting, drawing, digital, all of it!
But there's just one thing I can't do.
I can't do it.
I can't fucking do it.
How the hell is anyone supposed to memorize these formulas? Why does anyone care at all?
This was always reality whenever I took a math test. My anxiety spiked and each question I looked at only made it worse. A problem that I could do well enough on a homework became an impossible task on the exam. It doesn't help that I so thoroughly hated math in the first place.
I looked around. Everyone had their heads dutifully down, staring intently at each of their papers. Their fingers gripped at pencils, scribbling nonsense all over the math test.
Mine was blank.
Ok let's see. The first question.
Solve the equation for x: 4x^2-24=0
This first question is.. hard. Is x even a number? Ok, next one then.
Sketch the plot of the following equation: sin(x/2)+1...
Before I knew it, I was at the last question.
This can't be right.
Flipping through my exam sheet, not one question was filled in.
"15 minutes remaining!" my teacher announced.
If I don't get at least a B on this test, my dreams of going to art school are over.
After my dad died, my mom stepped up and worked day and night to support me and my dreams.
I wanted to go to art school. Art has always been my passion, overflowing with creativity and self-expression.
The complete opposite of whatever this is.
I had my eyes on a scholarship that I was sure to qualify for. If only for my math grades.
My mom has already scrounged up as much as she could for my tuition, the scholarship was supposed to fill in the rest comfortably. That way, I would never need to bother her with financials again.
I don't want to burden her anymore.
"5 minutes left!"
Yet still, I looked at my empty exam sheet.
Quickly, I scribbled any random numbers that I could think of.
"That quiz was so easy!"
"Mr. Smith made it seem like it was gonna be so hard!"
"I finished with so much time left"
"Hey Lillian, how did you do?"
I broke out of a dazed stupor.
"Oh, uhm, I think I did alright." I said.
A blatant lie of course. There was barely any work on my paper when I turned it in. I could tell Mr. Smith was disappointed. Did the others see my paper too?
I could tell they didn't believe a single word.
I was always the artsy kid, bottom of my class in grades, but always a beautiful picture in the paper before me.
I did OK in English and barely passed my science classes.
But in math?
No way.
Every equation looked foreign to me, as if they were speaking an entirely different language. I had no idea where to start, begin and would always find myself in the middle absolutely lost.
I would always look around at my classmates, who outpaced me at every step.
I don't want to be left behind.
It was a common thought that I had daily, no, hourly.
I was jealous. I was mad. I was disappointed. How was it possible that others could pick this up so easily when every chapter we cover was a hard fought battle I always manage by the skin of my teeth?
No matter how many videos I watched going through the practice problems, no matter how many textbooks I read through and no matter how many times I went to after school tutoring.
It was all worthless.
"Maybe you're just not cut out for math sweetie" I remember the words of my mom. "And that's OK."
No, I won't let her down. I know she's saying that just for me. I know she's disappointed.
I've made up my mind. Even if I failed the quiz today, I would study and study until I've mastered this content. The exam was only a few days away but nothing couldn't be accomplished by sheer effort.
I sat in my room with a textbook open. The letters and symbols seemed hieroglyphic to me, but I will not stop until I understood it all.
"Lillian how was your day today?" my mom came in and asked. She always had a warm smile for me despite looking exhausted. She probably had another back to back shift.
"It went fine," I said. "I'm planning on working through the textbook for my final tonight."
"Of course sweetie, be careful and make sure you get some sleep. I can tell you're under a lot of stress."
Of course she could tell. My dad died a few years ago due to stress. Doctors said it was genetic, and told me to watch out. Apparently, my dad had been suffering through chronic blood pressure and heart problems ever since he was young. He'd had many incidents but it had never been life threatening.
Until it was too late.
I can't just lay idly by though.
"OK mom, love you," I said.
"Love you too," she said before leaving.
Looking towards my calendar, I could see the final math exam was in 3 days. I needed to cram an entire year's worth of material in.
The clock read 7PM. It's go time.
...
As my digital clock read 4:37AM, I could feel my vision blurring and yet I'm only 100 pages through.
My hand cramped from gripping the pencil for such a long time. The skin on my fingers where the pencil made contact felt raw and looked discolored.
I looked towards the many sheets of papers I have used up, both front and back. I had spent the past almost 8 hours rote memorizing how to do every kind of problem in the book.
I knew I shouldn't push myself any more. I sat back, closed my eyes, and drew a deep breath. My body seemed to feel better so I opened my eyes and continued my all-nighter.
Not one moment later did my heart seemed to catch on itself. It felt like a heavy pressure seemed to weigh on my chest. My arms started to have a pulsing radiating pain.
A heart attack.
"I think I'm going to lay my head..." I said to myself before collapsing.
In retrospect, I should've known this was going to happen and it was quite stupid not to call out for help.
As my eyes began to close for the last time, face slammed on the textbook, I made out the last remaining words I'll read before I die.
A new world awaits you.