Generalized Anxiety Disorder

The feeling

"Lucian, speak up," said Mrs. Peterson
"Im trying, it just wont..." i responded. The rock in my throught grew, I almost couldnt swallow, the thought of this made it even worse. I could feel the pit in my stomach grow. My breathing grew harsh as i tried to speak, it was like a hand was blocking the word from coming out of my mouth. By the time it was able to escape that hands grasp, it was too late and Mrs. Peterson had chosen someone else.
"The square root of 8 is about 2.8," said Dakota
"Correct," said Mrs. Peterson
The pit grew once again even wider. I tried to laugh it off but the thought of how much of a failure i was stuck with me, causing that pit to stay aswell.