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Grade
11

Too much, it’s all too much. Time slows, or maybe it’s just me slowing, because everyone else seems to be moving just fine. My head and legs and arms are so heavy, too heavy to lift, too heavy to move. They’ve been filled with lead in an instant. My tongue is thick and I can’t push my words past it, so they die in my throat. My brain is a mess, thoughts are swirling like they are the snowflakes in a shaken snow globe. As I try to focus on the circling thoughts, I don’t realize that my ribs are trying to squeeze my lungs as tight as they can, choking me. I take mouse-sized breaths to fill my crumpled lungs, but it’s not enough. Everything is too much; too much pressure, too much to do, too much yelling. I have tears in my eyes as I shake and try to calm myself down from the brink of a panic attack.

State
IA
Zip Code
50660