Thirty minutes to 2p.m… I was on a deadline; I had to finish this application and forward it to the Berkley admission’s officer before it was too late for me to fulfill my childhood ambition. ‘Why did I leave it for the last hour?’ I asked myself. ‘Because you are the definition of a frantic mess’ my brain answered.
I was unable to concentrate. I still have five hundred words to go. Time was slipping through my fingers. The clock kept ticking. ‘Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock!’
My heartbeat had synchronized with the clock, beating sixty times per minute. Was this even a normal heartbeat rate? I wondered. The ticking of the shiny wooden wall clock in front of me had now been embedded upon my brain. The ticking tocked and the tocked ticked, while my mind was unable to click. At that moment all I wanted to do was take that malicious loud clock down and bash it in little pieces so that the irritating assumptious clicking would stop bombarding my brain.
Twenty minutes to 2 p.m…. I frowned and shifted my eyes back to the empty screen in front of me. The brightness of the screen seemed to be brighter than my future, hence I moved my finger across the key-board and dimmed it down. I licked my lips as they were as dry as the narrative I was supposed to email to get me into Berkley. I had not had anything to eat or drink since I woke up this morning.
A pudgy boy two seats to the left of me opened a bottle of coke, the ‘hiss!’ Of the carbon dioxide bubbles fizzed out my train of thought, destroying my concentration. He chugged down the cold beverage, making atrocious gulping sounds: ‘Gug! Gug! Gug!’ I felt like strangling him. He let out a sigh of satisfaction after quenching his thirst. I once again licked my lips and forcefully tried to gulp my parched throat.
Finally I thought the suffering was over; however he proved my wrong. The blonde boy reached into his neon green bag (that made my eyes sting every time I caught a glance of it) and fumbled in search of something. I heard the rumbling of familiar shiny material. He took out a packet of nacho cheese Doritos. I prayed to the Lord above that he would put it back and would not open and munch on it but I guess he did not hear me as now all I heard was the chomping of Doritos. I was about to come to literal tears. I felt like banging my head on the table. ‘Crunch! Crunch! Chomp! Chomp!’ The open mouth chewing continued.
Ten minutes to 2p.m…. At this point I had started hyper ventilating. Not a single thought, idea or story was coming to my brain. I felt the feeling of failure run down my spine. I clanked my porcelain teeth together and clenched my chest. I let out heavy sighs after the interval of every five seconds. Maybe its not too late? I can do this; there is always hope. I typed a few sentences but I could not fully concentrate as the woman sitting across the table continuously tapped her fingers. Her long fingernails scratched the wooden table making me cringe and extremely uncomfortable. The scratching sounds made me hold my head as it was now throbbing because of the frustrating annoyance and inconsideration of everyone around me.
My head was spinning. Objects around me had now transformed to colors. I felt light headed. The giggles of the two school girls from across the hall was now echoing inside my brain. Even their whispering was loud. I wanted to walk over to them and slap their stupid smiles across their face. If they wanted to gossip and giggle they could have done it anywhere. Why here? Could they not see people actually come here to work?
Five minutes to 2p.m….These five minutes seemed to be the most cruel and extensive five minutes of my life. I pressed my hands over my ears applying pressure to escape every annoying sound of the real world. Now all I heard was nothing but ironically this nothing was still something as it was still noisy. ‘Zmmm…’
One minute to 2p.m…. I gave up. It was too late. Maybe it was fate. Maybe I was not meant to attend Berkley. I got up and felt relived to finally get out of there. I vowed to myself that I would never come back, to this monstrosity, again. I thought libraries were supposed to be quiet places but who knew? Irony never fails to surprise you.