Torn.

As every final quarter high school senior does, I am freaking out. If you haven't been in this place yet, I think it's honestly impossible to empathize. I'm not a crier, and I have cried every day for five days straight. My back is covered with stress-caused hives. And I had a panic attack so violent last night that 911 was about to be called. This school-based anxiety has gotten so bad that I am even relieved that my spring break vacation to Hong Kong was cancelled.
If anyone has any chill pills, please, don't be afraid to share. With my AP Art portfolio gnawing at my heels (not to mention my ears and pinky finger), the stress of which college to choose seems like an unobtainable fantasy from a storybook. I must battle three dragons. The first, my AP exams, can only be defeated by giving up my entire spring break to stay secluded in a dark room with nothing but some paintbrushes and a psychology book. The second, my senior finals, are to be slain with the pathetic remainder of any brain arrows left over from the preceding AP exams. Finally, the college choice, cannot be killed, but treated with elegant manners, merely because this dragon chooses what you will do with the rest of your heavily armored life.