University of Michigan
Nora Quinn
The quiet girl around campus with a wild roommate. She likes to stick to her studies and not draw any attention to herself.
Brayden Davis
Number one Quarterback and draft pick. He is your average college playboy...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
You know when you are about to fall down the stairs and you get this weird feeling in your stomach? Like your stomach is slowly turning upside down and rearranging your entire guts. Well, that's how I feel every second of the day. Why, might you ask? Because of Anxiety. Anxiety is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I hated everything about it.
It was a big annoying fat pimple that I wanted to pop and go away. But when I popped it, it left a scar. It just never goes away.
I've always wondered, how did others, who didn't have anxiety, live? Did people go out and never worry? Sure, everyone gets anxious. But I get anxious just thinking about going to the bathroom and worrying if people might be judging me. Or when someone is having a simple conversation and I'm too afraid to look them in the eye. That's why I suck at small talk.
That's why I chose to stick to myself and not stand out; I was afraid.
"Oh my god, I hate him so much!" my roommate, Olivia, yells as she slams our door open, making me jump from my bed. She runs over to her side of the room and throws herself down on her bed, slapping her head down on the pillow and sobs.
"What happened?" I quietly ask, jumping down from my bed. I sit down on the edge of her bed and hesitate to rub her back, but I do so anyway. I wasn't sure if she wanted me to touch her or not. School started a month ago, so I have only known her for about a month.
Although we were juniors, we get a new roommate every year.
She turned and lifted her body up, now throwing her legs over one another. Mascara runs down her cheeks. She sniffles before rubbing her cheeks with her palm. "He was kissing another girl." She bawled.
"Who?" I asked. She liked this guy, I forget his name, but he seemed really special, until now.
"I dunno know, some cheerleader. I really thought we had something." Tears form in her eyes again.
"Don't cry. He isn't worth crying over." I say softly, trying to comfort her. She wipes her cheeks, sniffling.
She nods her head, "You're right. But I can't help it. I'm just so emotional. I think I'm getting my period." That makes her throw her head back and let out a louder sob.
"What's his name again?" I ask. I was a little afraid, because what if she hates me for forgetting his name?
"Brayden Davis." She sniffles.
Oh no, I messed up, she hates me. "Do you hate me?" I asked. I was getting better at asking. Before I wouldn't have questioned anything.
"Why would I hate you?" She interrogated me.
"Because I forgot his name." I look down at my lap, ashamed
"No, I don't care about that. Help me forget him, let's go out." She suggested.
