I had forgotten how scary the world used to be. 7th grade thoughts lingered back into my mind and 8th grade fears rushed into my heart. I had forgotten how scared I used to be. Even though it's happened a thousand times and will happen a thousand times more, each time it does, my heart skips a beat and as I blink my soul is back in a middle school math class, with tears rushing down my eyes and rattling in my hands. I remember my first panic attack. I don't like this feeling, for the confidence I have built for so long is removed Tom my body like armor that's made of sand. Locker rooms are battlefields and pictures of my face are scattered on the floor. This time I have to pick them up alone. I want to be myself and drop dead at the same time, and I can't stop myself from saying the truth that's not ready to come out. I am the truth. I'm not ready to come out. Perhaps I'll never be. Perhaps I never was.
