Prom. I'm not Pretty In Pink. I'm not Cinderella at the ball. List of saving graces: My dad slipped me drugs during the father-daughter dance; I had my best friend to help me the whole night. Insights: my principle was a dumb-***; the sight of Jody during a panic-attack makes my world spiral & fall down a million shattered glass hills, the no-escape land where chests turn into cages & clench lungs so hard they can't make full breaths & hands turn into ADHD fire ants, pushing and & twisting skin until raw, scratching necks and arms nervously & don't mind the drawn blood, sweetie. Where politics & family trees go on forgotten & why did they send HER heroutgetherout I can't do this Tom. Where I'm backed up in a corner & I'm stuck in the no-escape land. Clastrophobia; why are all these people around me? Swarming me. Incessant little panic bees swirling constantly touching always "don't ******* touch me!!" & Tom is raising his voice at them; I can hear the volume and the sheer chaotic amount of noise but can't distinguish the words. &then; the panic bees file & march forward, nothing to see here, folks. "It's just me & you," he's telling me "they don't matter" & he's looking at me & then the breathing concentrations & the pain in my throat & the chest loosens a bit & I can feel the pulled muscles all over me & I can climb up the glass hills & the shakes? Oh, they don't stop for a looong while.