The air conditioner thrums in my ears, the only sound in this room that my mind can focus on.
Who am I going to become in just a month's time?
I don't want to go. I don't want to leave my home.
I don't want to be alone, without a grown-up hand to grab onto as I cross the street.
I enter the hall up the stairs with my folder and god damn it why is everyone looking at me.
Why are they fucking looking at me?
If I look nervous here, I'll give the whole game away.
It'll be obvious that I'm not an adult, not really even a person yet.
Someone with a microphone is saying something I can't make out. I should probably be committing it to memory, but I can't.
The stress doesn't truly kick in until it's over, until I'm home, until it's quiet.
Then it's all I can fucking think about!
I have no idea what is going to happen to me!