Am I Overreacting Or...?

It was supposed to be a good day today. Well, not entirely, because she didn't know what the outcome would be. Whatever wanted to happen should happen. Well, what happened, and she didn't take it well.

She opened the paper.

"No."

She wouldn't be writing her professional exams with her coursemates. You know, it would've felt better if someone else had done the picking. At least she wouldn't have to carry the guilt. She'd have someone to blame, but no. She picked it herself. She didn't know how or what she felt in that moment. I mean, it wasn't her fault, she didn't make the rules. She was eligible and she was cleared. Still, somehow, she felt like she'd done something wrong.

Does she become the strong girl who keeps a straight face, or does she let it all out? Good girl. She's doing great. She tries so hard to keep the tears in, but her tear glands decide to let everyone know she's terrible at pretending. “You're not a fucking hard girl, Amara. You're a softie. Ain't that what Bill said?”, she says to herself.

With the last strength in her, she leaves the class. She's shaking terribly. She can't breathe. She's cold, freezing to death, but somehow she's sweating. Her pulse is over 140. She reaches for her phone with shaky hands and somehow manages to dial Gozie's number, thankful it doesn't slip out of her hand in the process. The moment she answers, she bursts into tears. Hot tears. She can't control them, she's hyperventilating. She can't even make out what she's saying, but she remembers managing to say, "Please, come outside," before ending the call. She still can't breathe. She doesn't know how she's even carrying herself. She reaches for the tiny lilac bag that holds her medication. It's not there. "Let's raw dog it as usual, then," she thinks.

She sees Gozie walking towards her, and whatever she's been holding back finally gives way. And then, suddenly, it's me. I feel... weak. I'm having a panic attack in school. I can't speak. My mouth refuses to form the words, but all I want to say is, No. It can't be me. My vision blurs, I'm crying so hard I can barely see. Gozie leads me outside and stops a shuttle cab. The moment I sit down, the taps turn themselves on again. There's a girl sitting beside me. She says sorry and pulls me into a hug. The driver says sorry too. He tells me the world isn't over. All I can think is, you're crying in public. I wipe my face with the last wad of tissue I have and shut myself down.

My phone has been buzzing nonstop. Mom. I tell her I'm fine. That's probably the last thing she'd believe at that point.

I'm back home now. I scroll through Instagram, hoping it'll distract me. Nothing. I try to sleep. Nothing. I plug my phone in because I'm shaking, freezing, and burning up all at once, again. I can't breathe properly. I can't even walk. My head pounds so badly that crawling to my bed feels easier than standing. I swallow two tablets of paracetamol, close the windows, put on my thickest sweater and pants, wrap myself in two wrappers, and pretend to sleep so the medicine can do its work.

I wonder if people ever run out of tears. I feel weak, defeated, useless. A mess. But hey, everything happens for a reason, right? God knows why. Maybe I'm overreacting.

Gozie hugged me and walked me to the cab. Kosi hugged me too. Kamso wanted to come see me because she thought I'd do something stupid. Tony tried to make me feel better. My mom brought fresh corn alongside my hair extensions and told me everything would be fine, so maybe it will be. For now.

I think I'm getting sick.