Hot tea scourges my throat. I feel my eyes roll to the top of my head, it’s an instinct. Heavy breathing behind me, a snort, a sniffle. Knuckles crack and I feel my entire body shudder. Another sniffle. It’s one of those loud sniffles where you can hear the mucus going down into ones throat. I feel bad. The sniffler is sitting behind me. A gag builds in my throat. Reaching for the thermos on my desk I let the steaming tea gently down my throat. I can hardly taste it. Glancing up towards my professor until our eyes met. I blinked as if to understand the words coming from her mouth but all I can focus on is the disgusting sounds coming from the guy in the desk behind me.
An exasperated sigh leaves my body. I reach for my tea in hopes that the small amount of caffeine wakes me up enough to focus on my professor. We’re talking about controversial issues, ethics and law in journalism that would normally bother me. My hand shot up. I had an opinion. I explained my point of view with an anecdote, that’s always sort-of been my style. As soon as I finished speaking, nausea flooded my head and more than anything I wanted to crash. Exhaustion is a dangerous thing.
Sniffles continue behind me. It’s dizzying and as much as I try, I couldn’t focus for the life of me to understand the words flowing from my professor’s mouth. Peering inside my tea – thermos, hardly any left. Flipping hastily through my planner I look at the days, weeks and months in the near-future. Plotting out midterms and finals. It’s a bit frighting, the idea that I’m almost halfway done with college. Realizing how loud my paper flipping is, I pause. resting my elbow on my planner and attempting to look as if I’m taking notes on the presentation at hand. Chipping at my nail polish I hear the sniffling continue behind me. It turns into loud breathing. I can’t decide if I feel bad for the fellow or if I’m just purely annoyed. The breathing pauses and he scratches his head. Another shudder takes over my body. Perhaps I’m just grossed out.
Controversy grows and the conversation gets more loud and loud. Talk of journalism always gets me hyped up. I wish I were writing for a paper again as weird as it sounds. One would think with the lack of sleep and current amounts of stress I wouldn’t be looking for anymore stress. Or any less sleep.
Sleep, soon. I was blogging in class.