I fainted that day.
There was a swirl of helping hands and muffled words. The path had been laid, and I was on my way.
And, step after step, the edge was nearing. Laying on my side, with legs higher and higher raised, the anxiety elevated.
The screen was empty. The nurse silent. The doctor called.
And the panic arrived.
As soon as she was here, it was fleeting and lost.
There would be no joy in September. And March would always be dark.