Pierced

"God that sucked!"

"It was pretty awful," I agree. "I really don't think I passed."

"I didn't even finish."

We'd both been working on the exam right up until the professor called time. I'd almost managed to finish writing out my answer on the last problem, and I could only hope that I didn't get points off for missing my last semi colon and bracket.

What kind of CS exam is taken with paper and pencil anyway?

My friend is still complaining volubly as we walk back to our dorm. I'm going over the last problem in my head, questioning my entire approach when her question penetrates my concentration.

"Do you want to go get pierced?"

"Yes." I don't even think about it. Getting another piercing is exactly what I want to do right now. The adrenaline, the pain, even the care afterwards, all of it is the release I need. Getting pierced is a much more socially acceptable way to go through that cycle than using a razor blade. Again.

My friend has probably done exactly the same mental math, though it'll be a few more weeks before I pick up on that from her. This isn't the first time we've gotten new piercings this year. It will be my fourth, and I'd have to count the new holes in her ears to be sure.

It started after the first party of the school year. Four of us drunkenly decided that we wanted to get our belly buttons pierced. When we woke up the next morning, it still seemed like a good idea. We went together and spent the next several weeks holding shot glasses of salt water over the piercings together while we healed.

It became something of an addiction. That's not exactly the word though. After the first one, each new piercing was a response to extreme stress. It provided a quick release. And picking out matching jewelry is a nice distraction from the rest of life right now.

The piercing parlor is only a few blocks from campus, so it doesn't take long to get there. I'm going for a second hole in the cartilage of my left ear. My friend is completing what will eventually be a continuous row of holes along the edge of one ear. We're old hat at this by now. We quickly pick out new jewelry and go through the after care instructions. Then one at a time we head into the back.

The pain is exquisite and over quickly. It helps purge all of the anxiety we've been feeling since the test ended, and we head back to campus feeling lighter and more relaxed. I begin to wonder where my next piercing will go; maybe it's time to switch to the other ear.

I get my test back in class the next week with a bright red A on the top. For the first (and, it should be noted, only) time, I've received the top grade in the entire class. Maybe, just maybe, I don't need to be so worried about everything.