I'm not words with good
take another stab at it
I gasp
Gripping onto each utterance
breaking down each sound
tripping verbally
swelling internally, till I can't breath
the pressure is crushing me
lying in the dirt i think, 'pick yourself up Mikela; Don't lie there in defeat'
I'm conscious yet in a fog
eyes blurry, mind weary
I wait for a helping hand, knowing it wont come
choking
sick to my stomach
I try again
"Hi, my name is Mikela; What's yours?"