3. It's right before lunch time.
Do I need to say more?

Unfortunately, yes, I do. Anyway, one day in class, we're doing peer reviews for our essays and I'm trying my best to listen. "Ernest Hemingway was a..." Man, I wonder what I should eat today? "He spent many years in Paris..." I want some rice. "... to befriend other writers so that he too..." Yea, rice. Mmmmmmm." "could become a great writer." RUMBLE RUMBLE. At this point, everyone in my group turns to me and I'm trying my best to get my stomach under control.

Hunger may be good discipline, but Hemingway never ate any of this.

There's something about lunch time that brings out the ADHD side of me. And I don't think it's necessarily because of food. Ever since I was a kid, I associated lunch time with recess. I loved recess so it was only natural that I loved lunch time. It meant an entire hour of play time! Fuck yea! That lunch bell was like cocaine for me. As soon as it rang, I would go crazy and all hell would break loose. I darted out of the classroom with my arms raised, screaming like a hooligan. I didn't even eat lunch as a kid. I would trash the lunch my mom packed me and go straight to the soccer field where I would run around until my high finally wore off.

Fast forward seven years into the future and things haven't really changed. I eat lunch now, but I still get fidgety when it's almost noon. Time has this funny trick where it slows down when you don't want it to. Every ten seconds, I'm looking back at the clock in hope that if I stare long enough, my intense gaze will bend time and class will come to an end. So far, I have not succeeded in bending time.