I stood, legs trembling, outside the school principal's office, inside which the principal was brainwashing a docile counselor. The counselor, despite having garnered a respected reputation of his own, listened obediently. His hand gestures were perfectly in sync to the movement of his mouth. His words, just like his near-7-ft-tall figure, were imposing enough to singlehandedly mute an entire school during assemblies (about 700 people) for as long a duration as he wishes.

So how did a 16-year-old, who goes by the name of shiningsunnyday on AoPS, who half of the time stutters uncontrollably, often gets interrupted by others his age before delivering even one full sentence, dig out the guts to even attempt such a thing?

To put it simply, he was fighting for his life. Just 10 mins ago, he was standing in the hall, the rage in his eyes multiplying every second as his eyes fixated on the image below.

This is my dream. This is my life. This is the purpose why I stay up to 3 AM / 4 AM every morning, solving problem after problem. There is no way on earth I will allow my dream be destroyed by three lines.

When my rage reached the boiling point, I headed for the principal's office. My sensations became numb, apart from myself repeatedly rehearsing my opening, middle, and concluding statements that I had prepared for so long. My attention was entirely fixated on that door, the door inside which I will have to fight my battle. On the way there, I ignored my crush (stupid girls) and an acquaintance who said hi.

I had checked his office four times earlier in the day - the first two of which he was absent, the third of which he was seen forcibly lecturing a few parents, and the fourth of which he was seen lecturing a counselor. This was the fifth time. He was absent again.

I sat my butt down on the couch near his door. Soon enough, I heard his voice boom down the halls as he approached, stopping to have a conversation with another counselor. The more he talked, the more I felt my odds of winning the argument diminished. He beat me in every way possible. Ethos wise, he was the head of administration, and I was nothing but a nerd always seen surfing AoPS in the corner of a library. Figure wise, his body mass nearly doubled mine - but every ounce of it being weighted with authority. Vocal wise, his projection was many multiples louder than mine, his sound many multiples more resonant than mine. Just like everyone else in the school, I was struck with awe.

...and I'm here to persuade him to do something that I doubt will crack his top-100 priority list.

As he wrapped up his conversation down the hall with the awe-struck counselor, the distance between us closed.

"Hey Mary, how's your yoga training going?"

"It's going great, Dr. H! (the principal)"

"Great to hear! Oh hey, Marc, remember you still owe me a trip to that curry shop down the street."

"Gotcha sir!"

He owned every cubic centimeter of air in the office.

Then his eyes met me, gave me a quick scan, before turning into his office to get his bag and close the lights. He was going home.

I knew it was now or never - this was my one and only opportunity. The window of opportunity for the mamba to strike has come, and it's not clear when there will be another.

"Doc-oc..." I began mumbling. The sound was quickly overwhelmed by the closing of his door as he began heading for the exit.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

And just like I did in front of my ex during my last chance of reconciliation before 8th grade prom, I fled.