The area reverberated with gunshots. Shell casings littered the floor. In the far corner, I felt trapped. Too many people lined the narrow room, preventing my escape. I wanted out. I needed out. I couldn't breathe. Uncontrollable fear was pushing its way to the surface. The room was cold. I was sweating. Tears were threatening to fall but I knew that that would be the action that would cause the dam to break. The tiny shred of control that I had would then be lost and chaos would ensue. I knew what was happening. I knew that I was in the grip of a panic attack. I just didn't know why. and at that moment, I didn't care why. I knew that I had to restrain these feelings, compose myself. Long minutes passed by while the rest of my class continued with their target practice. By the time my turn came, I was collected enough to shoot again. I had elected to participate in this gun safety course. I own a gun. I had shot guns before. So, why was this happening now? A
I am creativity ~ in thought, in word, in motion