[ WP ] A humorous take on Confidence .

I sat at the back of the classroom, my sweaty hands fighting to keep hold of my pen as I recopied the note cards for my speech into a more legible form. I had several left to rewrite when I heard the sound. Clapping. My turn to face the hangman. 
 
 In those few moments of applause I suddenly understood my situation all too well. I would walk to the front of the room and deliver a half-assed, incoherent, unrehearsed speech I had written and researched that morning. Everyone would realize how unprepared I was. I would blush harder with each thoughtless point I made, my voice would crack, and I would talk too quickly and too quietly and find myself a muttering incoherent basket case on display for the amusement of my peers. I would never get laid again. 
 Nonetheless, I sucked a deep breath, gathered my note cards, and made my way to the professor ’ s desk to hand her my grading rubric, without which a student would automatically fail. She had driven this point home for weeks. Imagine my surprise when I did not have the rubric. 
 
 After some frantic pleading the professor begrudgingly allowed me to retrieve my rubric from my friend ’ s apartment while someone else presented. I calmly walked out the door and as soon as it closed I began a two block marathon sprint in my cardigan and khaki uniform, running for team Oh God, Please. 
 
 I exploded into my friend ’ s apartment like a laser-guided tornado. Luckily, my rubric was exactly where I had forgotten I left it. I grabbed it, turned down a bong rip, and set off on my return journey. Despite my elevated heart rate and urge to vomit, I felt an odd sense of relief because I would receive at least some credit. 
 
 When I returned to the classroom I put on the same calm air as I had left it with, despite my heavy breathing and sweating. It was my turn to present, again. 
 
 Fuck it. Things can ’ t get worse than they already have. 
 
 The focus from my mad dash followed me to the front of the room and suddenly I was not worried about looking at all these people looking at me. I was worried about delivering my damned, gradable, speech. 
 
 I walked back and forth on stage, signaling the audience ’ s attention to graphs and quotes. I spoke with feeling. I…paused the speech because I left my note cards on my desk. I recovered. I sweat through my cardigan and didn ’ t even care the audience could see. 
 
 Most of all, I delivered a damned fine speech ( by my poor standards ) and even answered the dreaded follow-up questions. I did all this because I was too tired, sweaty, nauseous, and overdressed to worry about the attention directed at me, I just acted. Avoiding absolute and total failure gave me confidence. Either that or the lack of oxygen to my brain meant I could not process the thoughts necessary to be self-conscious. 
 
 I proceeded to confidently vomit outside of the classroom. 

