Running [h.s.]

seven | luna

Luna's fit^

TW: Mention of anxiety, small anxiety attack. (I understand if this can be distressing, as I am diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and I suffer from anxiety attacks all the time. It can be a scary thing. So, if you think this will be triggering for you, please don't read this.)

Monday, September 7th. Three days after the party.

I had already finished my 10am lecture and grabbed lunch off campus.

Now I am on my way to my only other class of the day, American Poetry. This is only the second week of classes, so we are only reviewing our syllabi and laying the foundation for what the class is going to entail.

I already decided that senior year is the year where I am going to put an effort into my appearance and not just roll out of bed and go to class like I used to. I have been working so hard on getting my mental health back to where it should be, and looking good on the outside might be a step towards feeling good on the inside. Today I am wearing a small green silky tank top and white linen pants along with golden jewelry. I have my notebooks and my laptop tucked away in my bag, and I feel prepared for the day.

As I approach the English hall where my class is held, I notice a familiar figure strolling towards me in the distance. His sandy brown hair and thick eyebrows give away that it's Tyler, and I pause in front of my building so I can say hi to him.

When he is a few feet away from me, his eyes meet mine and he smiles. "Luna!" He exclaims as he wraps his arms around me. "What's up princess? Where ya headed?"

I laugh as I hug him back with the arm I'm not using to hold my bag. "My class is in here." I say, pointing at the grand building behind me. "It's American Poetry. I'm wicked excited."

"No way! My class is in this building too! I have to take an English gen ed credit, so I'm taking some intro creative writing course. Maybe you can help me with it?" He asks as he walks side by side with me into the building.

"Yeah of course, Ty" I agree.

"Awesome. Well, this is my classroom, so I'll catch ya after class. I'll walk you to your car!" He says before walking into the room. I keep strolling down the hallway until I find my classroom. When I do, I make my way towards the middle of the classroom, not too close to the front, but close enough where I am forced to pay attention and participate; I was not going to let my grades slip due to 'senioritis.'