Anxiety. Anxiety. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety. I can feel the growing pressure against the roof of my mouth, how my head nearly implodes of dizziness. I'm shaking, and of all bad places to be in, I'm here. In the classroom. My French course. Where no one knows I suffer from anxiety. In the hallway. All these people. People I don't know, and people I do know. People I need to look happy infront of, and smile to. In the bus line. Surrounded by people that have no idea of how I'm feeling. Some of them might understand, but no one knows. You can't tell from the outside, especially if you're not looking for it.
Short, cut-up breaths with a long exhale every now and then. My wandering gaze, my feet manically adjusting to the corners and edges of the platform. Banging scream metal through my broken ear phones.
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