I've got bags under my eyes that look like they're stretching for miles. I'm sweaty but cold and I can feel my lungs making a desperate attempt to dislodge themselves from my body. Breathing is easier now aside from the hacking cough, but at least my heart doesn't feel like it's just taken a massive hit of speed.
A panic attack at a fuckin' pep rally? Really? I mean is all that cheer and "go team" THAT frightening?
I know, logically, what's going to happen here. Even my adrenaline-riddled brain understands that nothing bad is actually going to happen as soon as I get a Goddamn grip. As soon as I kick that pessimistic bitch manifesting as a demon of self-doubt inside of me to the fuckin' curb, everything will be just fine.
Part of me is screaming that I didn't sign on for this. I didn't sign up to look at this kid who's on the verge of death and pretend like I don't notice it.
I can't be bothered writing more.