April 26, 2016

I was walking by the waterfront when my father decided to wrestle me to the ground. Someone in the background said that I was bad at dealing with heights to which my dad agreed with. As he climbed onto the apartment building, I ran inside to find myself in a maze of multiple floors. I jumped from floor to floor, propelling myself from the curves and arches of doorways. I briefly stopped at the 27th before getting to the 30th story. I found myself at the end of a dressing room before I collapsed onto the floor and had a panic attack.

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I walked through the spring showers in city streets half-awake, heading to class. My jaw refused to unclench as I felt my right incisors grinding against each other. I covered my mouth with my hand because my left cheek was so tensed I was sure that I was giving off an unsettling facial expression. When I walked past the bus stop at the bottom of the hill, I finally realized that I had forgotten to carry my books for my English as a Second Language class.

I wanted to ask my professor about a class I wanted to take next year as I didn’t know what to expect from it. I was told that it was going to be a “super easy class”.