My fingernails are trimmed down to the point where the skin underneath is almost fully exposed. Not from a manicure, but from my vigorous bite. My hands are running through my hair. The sweat from my palms is keeping my hair out of my face. The beats per minute of my heart turn into a marching drum and then a heavy metal song. I don’t want to be here, but I am. I need this test more than I need to drive home or eat dinner tonight. Scores determine my fate, and I prayed they would be high. My college career relies restlessly on the score I can finesse on this test. Anything less than a thirty, and I know I won’t be sleeping tonight. God, why didn’t I study. Too late now. Or is it? Maybe I can look up a few practice questions on my phone before they hand the tests out. Shit, the proctor is looking. She’s going to take my phone away. The stale air in this gymnasium is filling my brain. I can’t keep my hand still enough to even write my name properly. I can’t do this. I look to my buddy Brian across the room for some reassurance, only to see him with the same freaked out look on his face. My heart is in my stomach, and my stomach is out of my control.
“STUDENTS, YOU MAY NOW BEGIN YOUR TEST.”
Oh my God. What if I forget everything? My hands are getting the pages of the booklet wet with every turn. I see the first question of the test through a blurred vision and try my best to answer it. My stomach turns with my mind. I’m pacing back and forth in my chair. Can I go to the bathroom? No. I’m trapped. The walls of the gym are closing in on me. I look around to see everyone else. Head down, writing with precision, page turning and page turning, no worries. This pushes me over the limit. I tap my pencil rapidly to search for the answers I can’t find. At this point, I’m just trying to push through this struggle, making sure I fill in every bubble even if it means scribbles. I probably will fail my ACT, but at least I didn’t die on scene. This feeling instantly goes away when the proctor tells us to stop, yet it only continues when I realize I must wait to hear back for my score.
pono's blog 
Anxiety?
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Is your emotion nervous? I liked the use of imagery throughout your piece because I could really visualize what you were saying. Your descriptive choice of words allowed me to set the scene in my head. I thought it was nervous because you stated, “The sweat from my palms is keeping my hair out of my face. The beats per minute of my heart turn into a marching drum and then a heavy metal song.” These descriptive sentences made me believe it was either anxious or nervous.
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I think this emotion conveyed anxiety. While reading, I could feel the stress and nervousness of the pressure of the ACT. Describing that your “stomach turns with my mind,” presents this image of being sick with fear, both physically and mentally. This was a great piece to read and I really enjoyed it.
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I really feel intense from the stress with the nail. I really enjoy the details are meticulous and descriptive. I think you emotion would be anxiety
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