brinshannara | Oh, boy.

I was determined to make it to poetry today. I woke up earlyish, I worked on my stats assignment. I managed to FINISH my stats assignment, against all odds (even though I think the last problem was WRONG) and even made it to school on time (thanks to a cab).

And then, the escalator wasn't working.

No problem, I thought, despite being annoyed at having to walk up to the fourth floor.

Well, I got up to the fourth floor and couldn't stop coughing. Way to go, lungs! You can't make it up 40 steps without convulsing! I hate being sick. (I can easily do 40 stairs when I'm not sick, but my lungs get VERY cranky and easily disturbed when I've been sick.)

So I'm thinking, okay, I just have to make it the 20 or so metres to class, then I can sit down and relax.

I made it 10 metres, to the water fountain and drank and drank and still couldn't stop coughing. I took off my coat and bent down to get my inhaler out of my bag. And it wasn't. in. my. bag.

At least, not where I normally keep it. But I did bring it with me, and I shortly found it, and took it.

And then I heard my name.

My poetry teacher was walking by and recognized me and asked if I was okay. Oh, the shame. I have been so sickly, this woman must think I'm going to drop dead any minute. So I explained to her that I was okay, it's just that I've been ill for the last week and that walking up the escalator just about finished me off, but that I was HERE, and I'd be in class in a few, and thanks for asking.

Seriously, it's like I wasn't meant to take this class. Everything, everything seems to be against me attending it. I've missed at least 5, if not 7, classes and I HATE that, because I actually like this class. That's like, close to a QUARTER of all classes. Thank God I got a B on the paper, or I'd have dropped it.

Anyways, it's stupid, so stupid, to feel shame for something I can't help -- I can't help that my lungs refused to go up that many stairs without dying. I can't help that I needed my medication. And yet, to be so vulnerable like that in front of an authority figure just... really just undid me. I felt like I was six years old with my hand caught in a cookie jar and I feel guilty and wrong and I can't shake it.