Today's writing

In college there were panic attacks. Leaving home was fine – I wasn’t ready for it, but what 18-year-old is? I packed my confusion in a U-Haul and unloaded it on the grass of a sunny campus. Classes weren’t overwhelming – stressful, a pain in the ass around finals time, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

It was the dorm. Low ceiling, concrete walls, a roommate to share what little space existed. My roommate’s name was Tim. He was a pair of startled eyes and nervous hands whenever I freaked out. I tried to keep it a secret, but secrets are never secret. The more you push them down into your body and brain, the brighter they’re written across your face.