The breathing of everyone in the room isn't the wind, but I'm shaking like a leaf. A silver screen standing on a stool in front of me, displaying the combinations of letters that spell out what I never want to share. The room swathed in shadow like the places where nervous girls like to hide. And me, standing in the only light. A fly caught under a glass. A deer in the headlights.

A desert, dry and scorching deep in my throat and I'm speaking. The girl who doesn't talk much is speaking to the crowd of faces, and eyes, and worst of all, ears.

Fear is the title. Fear. Heart pounding and I'm choking, fainting, dying, but I keep speaking somehow. My legs turn to jelly as if I've been running, but no, I haven't moved. There's scalding water in my eyes and a jack hammer in my ears and a thousand fists pounding into my stomach. My eyes read the words and my voice echoes, blaring out the fears of failure and rejection that haunt me every day and rule me now. I decide that I will not let these fears rule me, so I keep reading until I finish the last line, scoop up my computer, and walk from the light into the darkness where nervous girls like to hide and slump down into my chair. There is no storm, and there is no wind, but there is a clapping that is thunder and I am shaking like a leaf.