Conversations in my Head

My pen shook. Well, really my hand was shaking. If I put the pen, a black roller ball that I loved, on the paper it would have made little squiggles. I was tempted to do just that, but I couldn’t mess up the test. It was, after all, all nice and clean, not a mark on the smooth white paper. It was even warm, Mr. Payton must have made too few of copies and had to run off more just before this block. I didn’t want to mess it up. I didn’t want to write my name on the top, or even fake taking the test. I didn’t even want Mr. Patton to give me the test, but he ignored me, not wanting to make a scene out of it. That was okay, I could live with having handled the test. But I wasn’t going to write on it. Not even the answers that I knew, which he had assured there would be a few.
I was halfway through the block when my leg started going, violently shaking up and down. I tried to stop, but really I didn’t even want to. It calmed me down, even if only slightly so. With this thought I smiled at myself. I would have to tell mom that the next time that she yelled at me for shaking my leg.
At someone point after my leg started doing its thing, my stomach started to churn. It was yelling at me. If it had a voice I could imagine what it would be screaming. “What the hell were you thinking? Stress plus no food equals bad! You know that! Why the hell didn’t you eat this morning? Or even last night for that matter? You would think that after three years of this shit you would learn that that thing you call a brain makes me put out acid when you do stupid shit like this and if you don’t eat food it eats away at ME!”
My brain didn’t like that very much. It wasn’t its fault that its subconscious made my body do things. Like my hands shaking; they really don’t want to, my brain doesn’t really want them to, and yet there they go, vibrating like they are just aching to shake something. And it really doesn’t like it when my stomach tears itself apart over stupid tests, but it cant help that either.
My stomach wasn’t listening to my rational and calm explanation of things. It was still on freak out mode while the rest of me, my leg and my hands excluded, had gotten past that a few minutes into the test. The rest of me was on fuck this, I want to be sleeping right now mode. My hands wanted to strangled something. My leg wanted to go for a walk. My stomach wanted to tear a hole in itself. And I wanted everyone to shut up so I could think.