eighth pageMature

I knew that there was more to it and I truly did my best to avoid the things that would cause the reaction. Considering the setting I was forced to take part in, doing so had always proved to be difficult. The wind blew snow into my eyes until I couldn't see anymore. I was starting to get too stressed to deal with what was happening. There was no way I could block out this situation. I was trying my best not to panic. The wind was strong and I was almost knocked over by it. I forced myself to stop and stand behind something. The physical strain was causing my lungs to hurt and I coughed hard into my hands. The fact that I saw blood wasn't reassuring and contributed to more stress. It was difficult to get it off and it stained my sleeve when I tried. Giving into the panic I felt, I sat against the wall behind me. My breathing got more troubled as I coughed up more blood. I didn't usually have this much trouble with this illness I knew I had. The chill of the wind was beginning to become bothersome and I felt myself go numb despite how many layers I was wearing. I found that the worse I panicked, the colder I felt. At this rate, I wouldn't be able to make it to my destination. I struggled to get to my feet and I forced myself to walk again. The trip was long and painful. Luckily, I hadn't been late, but I had to put up with the odd looks on the other people's face. I knew I didn't look too good after what I'd been through. Fatigue struck me earlier than I'd thought and I had to fight sleep as well as the urge to cough due to my ordeal. I heard my name mentioned several times as the other students talked amongst themselves. When hair fell into my eyes, I brushed it away and found that it was still wet from the snow. Despite all of this, I did my best to take part in what the instructor asked. As I expected, they were oblivious to how exhausted I was. The others started to talk about me again when they'd left the classroom. Those dark thoughts from before slowly started to creep up from within and I was nearly too tired to fight against them. I felt such a negative rush of energy from their presence. Digging my nails into my palms, I couldn't seem to focus on anything else at all. This hadn't happened before, either. Usually, I could go several days without taking that so-called medicine. I remembered that I had taken it yesterday and I couldn't figure out why the effects had worn off so soon. The negative force was something I could barely tolerate normally, but now it was getting to be unbearable. Driving my nails in further into my skin, I felt that it somehow was driving this entity away. I felt a bit afraid when I'd seen blood on my nails from them piercing through, but the dark thoughts had seemingly dissipated for now. I covered the cuts on my hands with my sleeve and hoped that no one noticed or let alone, saw what had happened to me. It was unclear of how they found out that I was taking medication for some mental issue and it was aggravating to know that they did. I had decided to always have some of the pills in my possession for times like this, but taking them out would only confirm their suspicion. Not that I really cared what they thought about it, I just didn't like that they knew. After a long time of trying to avoid their words, the instructor walked back in and told us to take notes from a lecture. I was glad that I now had a positive distraction of some sort. My notes looked cluttered and disorganized to most, as I wrote down nearly everything that crossed my mind. I knew where mostly everything was written and I had no trouble finding material from the past. After a while of writing down several things, I had managed to calm down somewhat, at least until the blood from my hand went onto the page I was writing on. They were starting to sting painfully and I couldn't focus again. My head hurt from both exhaustion and stress.

“Are you going to have any input for the assignment?” A voice said.

I didn't reply and froze.

“Hello?” They sounded agitated.

“What do you want?” I asked.

There was a vaguely familiar person beside me. He seemed to be bored and a bit annoyed.

“We're supposed to do what it says on the handout.” He gestured to the paper that was near my hand.

“Do it yourself.” I replied bitterly.

The End

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