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That Place

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I walked in the hallway,
It was full of bright florescent lights, shining on every step I took,
And it smelled of dry erase markers and coffee grinds.

As I walk down the stares then back up them, Trying not to trip over my unlaced shoes, counting each step I take, taking a deeper breath with ever step,
Hoping I will not forget to breath.

Thinking and hoping not to run into or bump anyone,
Avoiding the reason,
The thought,
And the will of being afraid.

I pull at the end of my shirt, I flip my hair and I tighten the grip of my hands holding on to my backpack straps,
As I take a deep breath and walk through the door, trying to make sure I’m in the right room and the right place and even at the right time.

I sit in the ice cold seat in the corner of the room, where the lights barely work and there are no windows. I can barely see the board or even hear what anyone is saying.

I’m still trying figure out if this is a dream.





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