The reality:
I went to go register for classes at the community college. When I got there I couldn’t find the admissions building. Seeing all of the people moving with confidence sapped mine. I grew so afraid that I walked back home and hid under the covers for the rest of the day. That was the longest period of time I was afraid. Every step there I grew more afraid of circumstances I was stepping into. I already feared public ridicule. Every step home I berated myself. I felt foolish, ashamed and decidedly inferior. I’m not going to admit any of this to you people … wait i just did.

The fantastic:
And so I knew it was bad, from the way the muscles in my abdomen siezed, gripped by the claw of sudden fear. I knew is was bad because I felt like I was falling. I knew it was bad because my steps became faster as the dread of my discovery became a certianty instead of a fantasy. I used to get night terrors as a child so I knew what fear was, I touched terror so often it had almost became a friend. My parents had one of those cutsie wall hangings that said, “Better to be a child afraid of the darkness of night than a grownup afraid of the light of the day.” “Tell that to the child,” I always thought. But this was bad, way worse. My fingers started tingling because my breathing had become so rapid and shallow as the overriding fear overtook me and I knew I’d better sit down, but I kept running until I fell.

I inspired fear in others as well, Dreadlocks in a mohawk with pierced nipples on a guy will kind of draw attention. The distorted grimaces of shock and awe became my commonplace world view. Everybody was scared. I felt like something out of a Lovecraft novel, “He held secrets no man was meant to know, and to know the secret would drive you mad. Boo!” If I scared you first was the thinking I had. Nobody knew, and hiding it was the most important thing. All the jocks knew if you messed with me then watch out. A reputation earned, not just given. But still nobody knew, the dread of discovery I carried.

I held my talisman in my pocket as I willed my body to breathe. That stupid thing never worked but still I carried it because my Grandma said it would help. My vision was narrowing now, it was like the time I’d gotten bit by a rattlesnake. My heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t hear anything else. My mind was racing. “Who knew? Who saw? Who’d tell?” Like a litany in my brain. I saw the snake now crushed dead by a rock, “You know, they are more afraid of you than you are of them.” Yeah right. Things were beginning to return to normal.

I heard someone walking up to me, and I wished that I was invisible. My heart skipped a beat as my chest froze again. I didn’t want anybody to see, then they would know for sure. There it was again, a footfall behind me. I slowly rolled over to see who would be my Judas, but there wasn’t anybody there. I sat up and the ringing in my ears began to fade. I wanted to say, “Who’s there?” but I knew that my mind was playing tricks again. but still my head jerked back and forth like a spooked meerkat looking for anybody anything that might bear witness against me. It wasn’t since my night terrors that I had pissed myself with fear but as I stood to finish getting home I felt the coolness on my legs and the wet spot on the ground and I knew what had happened. Now with shame as well as fear I hurried home. Maybe it was a nightmare and I’d wake up. The pain from the scrape on my cheek told me that there was slim chance of that. “Maybe nobody knew,” I tried to offer myself hope. From the stunned silence when they saw me I knew there was no chance of that.