i hate that i let it get to me. it haunted me from even before the semester started and it's returned at the end, every much like a seal of faith i have of it.
it grips like a strange strong hand, squeezing out the breath you have out of your lungs. and it doesn't even come by quick, snap and painless, it starts slowly seeping around your neck, closes on you from start to the end of the two hours.
you don't even have time to register, to take note, to control the panic rising up from the bottom of your gut.
in fact, it doesn't end the two-hour mark; it carries on, standing right in front of your vision, blurring your sight, thoughts and mind. it triggers involuntary tears.
by then, it frightens you. that it has got to you this far.
rising from the dead, not for the good.
challenges the strength (or what's left), the decision, the intellect, the false bravery and broken courage.
breathe now, breathe.Labels: school, wounded
