The dying embers of the summer sun sank below the horizon, casting shadowy claws across the still streets. A knot of tension twisted in my gut, invisible chains tightening around my chest. The impending return to in-person learning—my first in college—loomed over me like the blinding spotlight of Carnegie Hall. [1]

       The pandemic had left me emotionally weathered and fractured. Just a few years earlier, life had been different. Though I had always been reserved, I wore a ready smile and easily chatted with anyone who sought company. The memories of the 2019 World Scouting Jamboree [2] filled me with both joy and grief. Those days of laughter, friendship, and unforgettable experiences still lived in my heart. Yet now, as I peered out the window into the encroaching night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that those moments of courage and joy had become relics of a distant past. 

       Lying in bed, sleep eluded me as my mind churned with scenes from an uncertain future. I imagined my classmates laughing as I awkwardly adjusted my shirt, the piercing gaze of a student as I knocked over their water bottle, and the looming fear of being called upon—caught between seeming too eager and looking inept. My thoughts whirled, faster than I could process, spiraling deeper into the night. 

       But as the sun’s golden rays filtered through my blinds, bathing the room in a warm glow, a bittersweet calm washed over me. I got out of bed and stood before my dresser, carefully choosing an outfit—neither too formal nor too casual. After settling on my clothes, I packed my bag and climbed into my silver Elantra. My palms grew sweaty as I turned the key, my stomach tightening. The words of encouragement from my parents the night before felt distant, obscured by a fog of anxiety. I drove on, feeling as though I was observing myself from above, detached, as my body steered toward campus. 

       Arriving at the building, I triple-checked the location on my phone, took a deep breath, and walked in. But as I approached the classroom and opened the door, my lungs constricted, and my eyes darted to every insignificant detail: water bottles, speakers, lighting fixtures—anything to avoid meeting the eyes of others. My hands shook, my pulse raced, and my head felt light. Each step echoed like a drumbeat in the silence. Seats that should have offered comfort sent icy tendrils of anxiety through me. I scanned for a spot, trying not to take too long—one not too close or too far, neither next to anyone nor in the middle of a group. Faces that should have seemed friendly now felt like judgmental stares. The very air in the room seemed charged with suffocating tension. 

       Finally seated, I pulled out my supplies as the professor’s voice cut through the noise in my head. But as the class began, the words floated past me, and my notebook remained blank, the pen trembling between my fingers. Why was I like this? 

       When the teacher asked us to chat with our classmates and introduce ourselves, it felt like an unreachable task. Their laughter, once comforting, now sounded like an inside joke I wasn’t part of. The thought of speaking immobilized me; my mouth dried, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. 

       I was scared. Not the kind of fear I’d known from horror films like The Conjuring—this was different. I had never been afraid of talking to people before. Engaging with others had always taken effort, a natural challenge for an introvert. But this was more than that. Now, I feared that every missed opportunity to connect added another brick to the fortress I had unknowingly built around myself. 

       My mind drifted, the class speeding by like a blur. Then, out of nowhere, I sneezed. Panic gripped me, but to my surprise, an arpeggio of “bless you’s” rose from the room. In that moment, it felt as though the blinds had been thrown open, finally waking me up. 

       Perhaps all I needed was to know that I was safe.

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[1] Carnegie Hall, located in New York City, is one of the most prestigious venues for classical and popular music performances in the world. It was built by philanthropist Andrew Carnegie and opened in 1891. The hall is renowned for its remarkable acoustics and has hosted some of the greatest musicians and performers since its inception, making it a symbol of artistic excellence in the global music community.

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[2] The 2019 World Scout Jamboree, held in West Virginia, USA, was a global event bringing together over 40,000 Scouts from around the world to promote unity, cultural exchange, and outdoor adventure through various educational and recreational activities.