Anticipation.

tick-tock, tick-tock...
As I sit in this chair, my legs shake and sweat forms on my forehead.
tick-tock, tick-tock...
As I sit here, a series of numbers race through my head. They may be in different orders each time, but they all have one thing in common: they range from 1 to 5.
tick-tock, tick-tock...
Not today, maybe tomorrow. Until the mailman slips a fistful of envelopes into my mailbox tomorrow, the numbers will continue to pop up in my thoughts, my legs will continue to shake, and I will continue to sweat. I will continue to have to run into the storage closet and hide until my hyperventilating subsides. Until tomorrow, the clock runs strong in my head.
tick-tock, tick-tock...
I flash back to last year, right at the moment that I opened the envelope. My eyes caught a view of the scores, and my knees buckled. Breathing became difficult. An growing sense of failure rose up in my chest.
And the rest of me came crashing down.
tick-tock, tick-tock...
Am I expecting too much of what I may see tomorrow? Am I overthinking it? Am I being a worrywart about something so trivial?
"Life still goes on after you receive those scores," I was told today.
I hope it will.
tick-tock, tick-tock...

EDIT: 7/8/09 I passed.