(Author's Note: None of the events in this story actually happened and all people in this story are fictitious. If any readers have had similar experiences, be assured that this is nothing but a coincidence.)
Today, like every other day, I face a dilemma — should I go to my classes and risk seeing my adversaries, or should I not go and risk failing every course? I know that I would have to withdraw from Math if I have one more failure, so I pick up my backpack and ride to the campus with a lot of reluctance.
It wasn't always like that. When I first came to UW, I was optimistic and felt that nothing would be able to stop me from getting my B.Math degree. However, as days went by, I realized that it wasn't as easy as I thought. To make matters worse, I made numerous enemies here, such as the Fundamental Theorem of (insert subject), Fermat's (insert adjective) Theorem, all forms of linear transformation, and the undergrad.math network (for crashing every time I try to get work done), just to name a few.
I know that I have to be alert at all times, or my enemies will be able to enter my mind. In most Math classes, I sit close to the door so that I can fly in case anyone mentions or the prof writes down the name of any of my enemies.
I make it to my first class before it begins, so I have a little time to chat with my roommate, Jake, who sits next to me. At 8:30 sharp, the prof enters the room and says "Today we'll talk about complex..."
Immediately, I exclaim, "Complex? No!"
Jake hears what I say and says, "What's wrong, Mark? He just said that we'll learn about complex..."
"Don't say the word 'complex'."
"What's wrong with that word?"
"I'll tell you. When he says complex, it means that my real and imaginary enemies are joining forces. They're out to get me. I'm not going to let that happen!"
Every night, I try everything to keep myself awake, because if I fall asleep the theorems and proofs will emerge from the depths of my mind and appear in my dreams. Then I won't be able to get them off my mind for a long time.
Naturally, I don't get much, if any, sleep, and, as a result, my average is dangerously low. So I decide to get some professional help from Counselling Services. I tell him of my insomnia and the problems I have in my studies.
The counsellor says, "It seems like you're experiencing trouble in your studies. I think your sleeping problem can be attributed to stress. I think it's better for you to withdraw from your courses and continue your studies next term."
When I hear that, I stand up and say "What? Withdraw? I can't withdraw anymore. I can't have any more WD's. Oh! I get it. You are one of them. How did they get you? HOW DID THEY GET YOU?"
After pondering my options, I realize that the only way out is to transfer into Arts. It is a tough decision, but I just can't stand having my adversaries stalking me everywhere I go anymore.
Jason "the Screamer" Lau