It's 9:00am.
GCSE Chemistry.
I sit down.
The lenses in my eyes pulsate to accommodate themselves to the monochrome fine print of the exam. I scribble my name in the relative box, along with my candidate number and other miscellaneous details. I scan through the instructions "Use a ballpoint black pen...".
"You may start" the morose invigilator screeches, like an ultrasound bat.
I hear the army of zombie students simultaneously mutilate their papers, and I sense a weak gust of air penetrate my face from the gargantuan A4 movement.
I clamp the corner of the fresh crisp paper between my finger and thumb, and, trying to remain calm, I flip the initial page over, as it flutters gently to a peaceful sleep on my small yet sturdy desk.
The veins in my eyes throb with anguish as I read the first question. All of a sudden, I feel... light headed. My eye lids flicker in symbiosis with my adrenaline influenced heartbeat.
They plead my brain to let them close, but it refuses them this basic right.
I continue the paper, but I feel the secreted water upon my corneas surface, blurring my vision, and invigorating my dry, Sahara like eyes.
My eye lids shut.
The next thing I know, the exam is over, and you've filled in two questions.
Don't pull all nighters before an exam kids.