This burning, twisting, mind-wrenching agony.
This tension in the back of my neck.
The chalk slides so smoothly against the surface of the blackboard.
Numbers and equations leap from my hand as I scratch away feverishly at the slate with my small cylinder of compacted minerals.
I thrust away desperately at the board with the fragile medium, working as fast as I can to attempt to capitalize on the last remaining hours of focus that I have left.
I can feel the amphetamine leaving my system.
A cacophony of distracting motions, sounds, and textures begin to creep into my senses.
I must hurry.