Ananda

Every weekday, leaving the house is like voluntarily going into the depths of hell. School has never been fun for me, but this year, it’s more than just an inconvenience and a chore—it’s practically torture. I want to learn; I want to be educated; I don’t mind listening to people talk for six hours—give me eight hours, I still won’t complain. But it’s not just that.

It’s having to be on edge constantly because someone might call out my name. It’s having small panic attacks when someone actually notices I’m there and big ones when I don’t think I’ve done my homework well enough (or at all). It’s panicking about panicking. It’s feeling sick and having pains in my stomach. It’s skipping class if I’m late, because missing a lesson is better than walking in after I’m expected to.

I don’t know how long I can carry on feeling this way. It’s not only horrible, but exhausting. I’m always tired, but struggle to fall asleep. The worst part: There’s no “off” switch I can flick to make everything better again. ♦