Floods of people pushing past me. Touching me. Lose where my beginning and end is. Friendly face appears. Embarrassment at having stooped so low. Cover. Act. Pretend. Ignore it all. Hold onto my name tag. Fiddle. Restless hands. Calm. Force calm. Don’t stand out. Panic. Dont stand out. Be calm.
It’ll get better, won’t it? It can’t always be like this. Like at school. The closeness. The suffocation. I want to be here but not me. The me I am now. Fragile, punctured, scared. I want to hide away. Pretend this type of world doesn’t exist. Make believe I am whole. That I can cope with these people, floods pushing past me. Touching me. Losing me.