During my junior year of high school, my teachers really started piling on the work. It wasn’t uncommon for me to have three or four tests in one day, as well as homework from every other one of my classes. Towards the end of the year, the workload became increasingly burdensome, and in the second to last week of school I finally hit a breaking point.
On Thursday morning of “dead week,” (which was unfortunately not true to its name this year) the volcano of stress that had been building up inside me for the entire school year finally erupted.
I had been up until 3 a.m. studying for several difficult tests and finishing a colossal English project that I should have started a month beforehand. I was sleep deprived, and ready to explode at any minor annoyance that crossed my path.
Unfortunately for her, my sister happened to be what set me off. She made some minor comment about how I was recycling a milk carton incorrectly, and I ended up going into a long, drawn out speech about how, “It’s my life, and I’ll recycle milk cartons however I please!”
My actual rhetoric was not quite as pleasant, but basically, all of my feelings of stress and worry about my grades and schoolwork that I had bottled up inside of me all year all came out on that morning.
Afterwards, I really did feel better. In the future though, I’ll try my best to deal with my stress gradually, instead of letting it fester inside of me until I can no longer control it. Also, next time I feel like I’m going to snap, I might avoid unleashing my rage upon innocent bystanders.