I'm nervous. I don't want to be, but I am. My stomach has been in knots all day; the tension at times overwhelming.
My mouth is dry. No matter how many times I wet my lips, it's not enough. I can't think. My thoughts won't stick around long enough to make sense. Each time I try and grab one, it's gone before I can reach it.
I'm sweating. My back coated, my hair stuck to my neck in clumps. The air won't move, won't give me any relief. Breathing slowly, my heart still races, still pounds against my chest in a dangerous rhythm.
I don't know how much longer I can wait; how much longer I can let the anticipation course through me. Curling and uncurling my fists, I feel like I'm plugged into a current. I look at the clock, but time hasn't moved much at all. I'm still waiting.
Just do it; just do something already. I don't think I can last much longer. . . .