The time had finally come, months and months of impatient waiting, fear, excitement, and the constant stress of knowing that the moment to either make or break me, was coming up. I turn to look at the thousands of other People my age, many of them thinking the same things as me, some more experienced at this sort of thing than others. Some could even call it an addiction. Some people not even looking forward to the upcoming event merely dragged along by their friends and family. I feel the movement, step by step, inch by inch, we all move closer to the impeding expedition. We approach the gaping entrance, and I feel my stomach almost literally jump into my throat, I swallow hard, trying to relieve the butterflies swarming my stomach like a thousand ants crawling through my insides, occasionally stopping to take a nibble. I want to throw up; I want to get rid of whatever is making my feet so heavy.
I know its dread, a fear of the unknown, but that doesn't make me feel any better.
The light disappears and so does the cool breeze that was keeping my cheeks from firing up into two red paint splatters on an already nervous face. The air gets more and more humid, harder and harder to breathe, the sweat is already starting to form along my hairline. Then, it starts to get really crowded. I walk as far forward as I possibly can, and any space behind me is quickly filled up. A friendly face is beside me, and we idly chat about the heat, and attempt to set off the smoke alarms and or Sprinklers with a lighter or 7.
Laughing matters are over, as the lights dim down, and the mass grow silent, including...