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Hallways
Sometimes,
as I walk through
the hallways,
and bump shoulders
and bags
with other pupils,
I feel like
the only one
awake in a dreamland.
Their bodies all seem
to know where to go,
and how to get there,
how to move,
and god,
I am so awkward;
Always getting knocked around.
Always stuck in the middle of everything.
Always knocked around.
I try to cross an intersection.
It’s bodies,
it's breathing,
it's laughing,
I hate it.
I’m frightened,
and everything is so loud,
and my head starts to swim,
and soon all I hear are
warm vibrations,
and my eyes water
and I can’t see.
Maybe I’ll just
stop awhile
and watch
everyone else
perfectly execute
every move they make
while I just lay
in the middle of the
hallway,
on my back,
breathing fast,
but out of breath,
trying hard not to die
from all the pressure
in my chest.
The floor is cool,
but these
hallways are warm.
Not a good warm.
A choking warm.
It creeps up
from your toes to
underneath your eyelids,
like an itchy sweater,
and sometimes,
it spills out of
your eyes,
and pours down
your face.
And when it pours
down your face you
think to yourself,
"Why can't I hold this in?"
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You don't always need to hold it in. Take a moment to be weak.