The eraser scratches the page thin.

Probably best if I put something down.

I canít make a start, not a proper one anyway.

This is a start, of sorts. I guess.

Iíve been sitting here forever, scratching.

Scratching and un-scratching.

My eraser is half-gone. Half-empty, even.

Iím not a pessimist, itís just that you canít have a half-full eraser. Once youíve used it, itís gone.

I stare, muddled, at the question.

I ponder the possibility of dying of graphite fumes - only to realise that I havenít actually written enough to release even the tiniest amount of graphite into the air.

Well, I have, really.

Just no one can see it, not anymore.

Eraser flakes like desiccated coconut litter my page. It looks like Iíve been eating lamingtons.

But I havenít been.

The page is almost clean. Clean if you didnít know what had happened there.

A battle, of sorts.

Between myself and, and myself, I guess.

I suppose, really, if you want to care, itís not like that at all.

Thereís me, and then thereís me.

But thatís not really the point anymore, is it?

Then what is the point?

The point?

The point is that I havenít studied for this exam.

Iíve got no-one to blame but myself, really.

Or myself.

But thatís not really an excuse.

Not really.

I guess.

But itís just so easy to fall into it. Thereís nothing more simple.

Except confusion. I do that well.

I canít decide on just one point of view.

Thatíd be too boring by far.

So I pick them all.

Well, two at least. Not quite all, not by any means, but a few.

Better than just one.

Thatís why Iím in this jam now, I figure.

I should just decide.

Pick one, and go with it until the end.

Thatís all they want.

There is no right answer, just an answer will do.

But thatís just it. Thatís the point.

The answer isnít going to come easy.

The answer will never be the truth.

They say the truth hurts, but it doesnít, really. How do you find it to begin with.

Thatís the bit that hurts.

Deciding on what the truth is.

Thereís one truth I can see. We can see.

Thereís only five minutes left before I have to hand up my work.

Thatís not many, I guess.

Not enough for me to write anything, let alone an essay.

What if the answer is never the truth?