Papers spread all over the floor, Department of the Treasury catches my eye and zaps the remainder of my energy.  I wanted to do something creative, but the hum-drum hold music coupled with the seriously bureaucratic forms and letters splayed out in front of me shattered my mental scape.

I might as well go to class after this. My mood is shot. It was shot once I realised that this the papers and the forms was a bigger mess than she let on.  The dates didn't match her false cheer and now it was all dumped in my lap.

I had run away from what was in front of my wide eyes the whole time: Things were getting tough quickly.  Things were bad enough for me right now: on the verge of bankruptcy, feeling stuck and hopeless, just trapped.

Things will get better.