Levels of Stress

Level Two

Level one is never tough to live past. Anyone can stick through life as it flies, but it's not so easy for me. By this point, I'll have moved on to level two, the beginning of stress.

This level is often known as "Baby Stress". It's the little things that can set people off so quickly. Maybe you've got a lot of homework one day and it all needs to get done in the course of one day. Possibly your house is a mess and your friends are coming over for a party. You feel rushed into finishing things quickly rather than perfectly.

It's always safe to approach me on a level two day. It's one of the few times I actually want someone to talk to. Thankfully, Jennifer knew that.

She's a few years ahead of me, so she jumped over on my bed before I even got home from school. I greeted her with a smile and she flashed one back.

"Hello!" she said and scrolled with her thumb on her phone.

I drop my book bags next to my bed and attempted to clean. If she's already been here for a while, then she's seen what a mess it's been. The question was, do I really want her to watch me not clean it up?

"Fancy a Hot Topic trip?" Jen asked and perked up like a puppy.

I sighed, "I wish. I'm loaded with homework."

"Aww," she frowned. Jennifer's never one to be selfish. She wasn't upset we couldn't leave.

I pulled out my math book and opened it up on my desk. She sauntered up to me and leaned her head over my shoulder, "What else have you got?"

The tip of my pencil pointed to my book bag and then went back to my mouth where I nervously bit the silver end, "You'll find every subject in there. Every goddamn one."

Poor girl couldn't even lift the bag, "Holy smokes. How do you walk home with this thing?"

I laugh, "It's easier when you're taller."

She stuck her tongue out at me and busied herself in an English book. Her nimble fingers flipped page after page, her hazel eyes searching for a familiar piece.

"I remember this. This was boring as hell," Jen snickered and continued to browse.

"Tell me about it. I've got six more subjects that are just as bad, all due tomorrow morning," I glanced to her for a second and forced my attention back to work.

I'm a huge procrastinator. I'm never going to get this done, especially not when Jennifer's here. I can't even do it on my own. She'll just make me laugh too much. The only way I'll be able to get something done is if she does it with me or she finds something else to do here.

"Don't teachers understand that we have other classes than theirs?" she spoke up after a long time of silence, "I mean, there's only 24 hours in a day and over seven of them are spent at school. They cannot expect us to write an essay in one day and make it absolutely perfect."

I nodded. She always made sense - well, not always - but never more than she has now, "Preach it." I wrote on, multitasking like a pro.

"I mean, think of authors nowadays. It takes months...years to edit after several more years of drafting. We need to be practicing editing for university. We need practice doing it right, not doing it right now," she became more and more engaged after every sentence.

I turned in my chair to face Jennifer, just looking into her eyes. She stayed silent for a while, staring back into my eyes.

"I'll take German," she put together the pieces I put out and grabbed my German homework.

Together, we got four subjects done in three hours. We figured it was enough to earn a break.

Jen hopped into her car and drove off to the shopping center, where we did end up going to Hot Topic. She bought band shirts and bracelets galore, not spending a pound other than the money left on her gift card. This girl has those cards up the whazoo. No one knows where she got all of them, but they sure do come in handy for her.

After multiple looks around the restaurants in the area, we stopped at Pizza Hut. We made jokes about Pete Wentz and his love for pizza, ate, and left for a few more stops.

Jen had to drop me off and leave me behind. It was only Wednesday and I still had quite a bit of homework still left over.

My dad lowered his book and watched me through the door, not saying a word. I tried not to look too nervous, walking slowly up the stairs.

I locked myself in my bedroom and put myself into the writing mood. Three hours straight had completely drained me. How many more would it take? Looking at the clock, I noticed it was already half past 22.

"Looks like I'm not getting any sleep tonight," I say to myself and look to the calendar, marking yet another 'x'.

Long nights next to stacks of homework and little sleep usually sends me straight into a bad mood for the rest of the next day. Then, I have to actually interact with people I hate after getting an hour of sleep, if I'm lucky. Without a warning, I'm sent right into level three.

Level Two: Homework stress