further maths paper 1 x reader

i grasped tightly at the reluctant strands of mousy brown hair that were trailing down my spine, battling my quaking fingers who were desperately trying to capture them into my lose messy bun perched at the top of my head. the paper beneath me lay dormant. i know behind the hard shell of puzzles and heartbreaking questions there must be some soul and heart beneath those words, those numbers that pile so high and high like my tears. i know, beneath those cold numbers, there must be more, i can feel it. i just can't reach it yet. A

the blotchy ink was spread out across the soft paper as i stared at it lovingly. it was like we were in some kind of intense staring contest, the kind of one that you only have with the most intimate of partners. and we were intimate, as i sat in that stuffy maths classroom. i knew behind those tough equations that made my brain do somersaults that there was more. a kind of affection that was unseen to the naked eye among most 16 year old further maths students. R

i glance across my desk and my eyes fall upon my compass, it's end pointed and sharp. i feel a deep desire to plunge it into my throat but i don't want to give it the satisfaction. but i can picture my fresh scarlet blood gushing onto my notes, erasing both my pained workings and tear blotches. instead, more tears fall, mimicking niagra falls with both their speed and volume. my maths is as irreparable as my heart. E

the bell rings breaking me from my depression. i hear my teacher handing out my project as the rustle of paper washes through my ear. crinkling, i pick it up wandering through the corridors with my head above the clouds dreaming of angles and pythagorous. friends talk to me but their voices rise over my head too high to hear - tall as a tidal wave. they urge me to respond but i can't. trapped within my own prison of thoughts; no outside force can penetrate the barrier ive built around the theorems and functions . i dream about the swirling thoughts of how they make me feel - emotions too powerful to explain. my heartbeat picks up whenever i think about them. my breathing hitches in my throat. somehow i have made it back to my house, the walk blinded by the whirlpool of ideas clouding my brain. N