The empty halls rang with his words.

“It’s not you that they are scared of, or even that you are scared of. It is your thoughts.”

As if he was right next to me, his words seemed to fill the entire hallway, drowning out the bright fluorescent lights that bounced heavily against my eyelids.

It made sense now.

Walking slowly in deep thought, I found myself in front of the last wooden door.

I reached out, took a deep breath, and twisted the metal door handle.

The cold metal felt nice against my warm skin.

His unforgettable words gave me confidence in having some insight into my own inner chaos.

I felt renewed, as if I had just washed my face with ice cold water and stepped out into a nice breeze.

I swung the door open.

The beginning of a new living.

All around her, the sounds faded out.

Suddenly she felt hot, her face flushed.

Her hair fell lightly around her shoulders,

as a stiff blow of air rushed past her.

She didn’t notice the crowd pushing past her, shoving her steadily towards the corner.

“Move!”, grumbled a stern looking woman, as she hurriedly brushed past lugging a heavy suitcase.

In a dazed effort, Samara found her way to a nearby empty chair.

This couldn’t be happening right now.

No, this couldn’t possibly be happening.

Her slim fingers trembled as she slowly lifted her phone to unlock it once again.

please let this be a dream, Samara pleadingly thought.

With a click, her phone unlocked onto the video she had paused in disbelief ten minutes ago.

There it was.

It wasn’t a dream.

In that moment, her chest sank with dread.

Suddenly the lively airport that she had entered excitedly this afternoon seemed to close in on her.

Harper could not take it anymore.

With pressed lips she turned around and stared straight over her shoulder.

“That’s quite enough of that”.

She refrained from using harsh words, but oh how she would’ve loved to.

A burst of laughter quickly followed.

“Oh, don’t be so uptight, Harper. We’re just having some fun”.

This came from the puny, red-haired boy that sat right behind her.

Harper could not remember his name, but she could tell that he was trouble. It was only the first week of eighth grade, and she was already missing her old teachers and classmates.

She squinted her eyes at him for a second, then turned her attention back to the front of the class. Ms. Braxton was writing quickly on the board, oblivious to the snickers and scuffle coming from behind her.

eager. excited.

maybe you could even call it bright-eyed for the future.

hungry…

a vision so dense it drowned out all other reality.

never once imagining this narrow sighting was selfishly oblivious,

gullible to all other aspects of life.

a vision so narrowly focused,

it burned,

along with it’s blind spots.