One question.

I had a miserable evening last night. An essay to write, a quiz to study for, and packing to do. Plus, the looming History Day paper that is too far from completion.

So I stayed up very late. How very? Well, let's just say that I required two servings of ice cream, a few truffles, about five pieces of gum, and three glasses of juice. Late.

I woke up this morning to my mother coming into my room to say goodbye and promptly tripping over my (completely packed) suitcase. And then cursing and giving me a glare. Um, sorry? I put my suitcase in the middle of my room? So I could pack it? Yeah. Totally inexcusable.

I then didn't have time for breakfast, and made a complete fool of myself trying to get onto the bus. I had a backpack, a shopping bag (with my magic book and other nerdy things in it) and the aforementioned suitcase. And I already suck at getting on the bus because I'm clumsy and have no sense of balance while wearing a backpack.

I get to school, I finish the lit essay, cram for the quiz, and almost fall asleep multiple times.

I feel like I'm wading through mud. Everything takes more effort than it should, and my brain isn't at its best.

But then, in my second hour chem class, my teacher asked me how I was doing as he handed out worksheets. This teacher is one of the most sadistic and cynical teachers I've had.

I told him I was tired.

He said something somewhat sympathetic then went up and taught. I feel so much better now.

Teachers care. I must remember that, because it keeps me from becoming a basket case.