Academic death.
I grab the quill and drop it in my own personal supply of ink.
The quill is covered in the crimson ink and I begin to study with it.
I make notes about our government and as my quill glides across the page I begin to pass out.
Red ink covers the page and I can barely breathe.
I have to force myself up again, I have to study and pass the test.
I have to get those awards because then, maybe she'll see me as enough for him. I'll work till my brain turns into mush or I get those awards. Whichever comes first, I will tire myself out, use my own personal supply of ink all over the pages, I'll show her the crimson colored pages, make her see I'm worthy. Or I will die academically. Perish with my head in the books, crimson pages around me, the quill in my veins.
