Crack

 Basketball is a fun game, right? To watch and to play. However, injuries are a buzzkill. They allowed the Indiana Pacers to reach the Conference Finals, and they also stopped my momentum dead in its tracks, right before the most important exam I could take in my school years.

Countless past papers could not have prepared me for what lay ahead: the scribe situation.

I could not write my own paper. Confidence rushed my brain still, thinking, “I could just tell him what to write and he’ll write it. This is better that writing on my own!” 

I have never been more wrong in my life.

Dictating your thoughts for someone else to write them down, especially in a math paper, felt like playing a video game but with a 2 second lag. Imagine your player is getting shot at and he moves a year after he is shot. This is what that felt like.

The second shot to the chest was the sudden plunge my typing speed took. I have poured several hundred hours into it, but after the fracture, it dropped from a glorious 122 WPM to a depressing 65. Now, even while I am typing this, the countless errors and the extra time it took for me to write this out, breaks my heart, along with my finger.