Monique comments that
she hasn't seen
Cadence and I
together
recently.
I'm searching
for how to
avoid
talking about
this
anxiety that
builds progressively
inside of me
every time I
think about Cadence.
A parent comes in
to check out
their student,
and when Monique
gets sucked in
to small talk,
I use this
as my escape.
She calls after
me,
but I don't
stop.

In class, I
am taking a
test when
my writing hand
and my arms
freeze.
That feeling
that's not quite
lightheadedness
and feels like
a grainy
black-and-white movie
gets a little louder.
I drop my pencil
on accident,
and pick it up
with my
left hand,
placing it back in
the limp fingers
on my
right hand.

I realize
that's not going to work
and proceed,
messily filling in
bubbles with my
left hand.
The page
in front of me
seems so
far away and
out of focus,
though I can
see it
with perfectly clear
vision.
My focus
wanes but I
force myself to
speed through
the rest
of the test.
I wobble across
the room and
turn in the
completed exam,
dropping it into
the basket with
stiff arms.
I feel my
body fall heavily
back into my
assigned seat,
watching
a StudCo friend of mine
slug through
the test.
I shoot a text to
Monique,
telling her I
feel like I'm
about to collapse.
My friend
finally finishes her
own test.

I am not
too bothered by
the wild tic
that begins to
burn in my
shoulder,
but my normal
tremor in
my hand is
more like
the Ritcher scale;
back and forth and
back and forth and
back and forth.
It shakes like I am
freezing, quickly spiraling
more and more
out of my control.
I start to panic.
My phone brightens,
hopefully with a
response from
Monique.
Pain shoots
from my shoulder
as I try to
type in
my phone password.
Because of
how badly
my hand is
freaking out,
I miss the
numbers enough times that
I lock myself
out of
my phone.
It's only for
a minute,
but my stress spikes
and I feel
alone
because I'm
unable to
reach help.