When my chemistry test was passed back to me, technically I had barely passed with a seventy-six, but in my eyes, I had failed.

I had tried to accept myself the way that I was, treating my flaws like a unique and important part of me, but my own acceptance and attention and approval had never been what I craved and now, anything short of perfect was not good enough.

The "C" on my paper was a nod to the sea that I was trapped in, the sea that was forcing me to move slowly and awkwardly as if I was underwater.

The bell had rung and students had cleared out but I was still trying to pack up my things. I was still trying to pretend everything was alright and normal and fine when everything was most certainly not fine.

My hands were shaking and my fingers were stiff and cold and my breathing was quiet yet erratic and for some reason my vision was cloudy, like I was looking at the world through a glass of water.

I jerked back when a warm hand tentatively touched my arm, and despite my longing for someone to connect with my reflex reaction was to glare at my shoes, shying away from his touch.

"Are you alright?" he asked. His voice was laced with the tender, reassuring threads of comfort and concern, and I was afraid.

I did not answer.