Panic We loaded up the car and headed towards Route 30. I had made this trip many times before, but this time it was a one way trip. I had been excited – as I saw it – to move on with my life, but that day I wasn't really feeling enthusiastic. I figured that was the difficulty of moving: it would be the second time my parents and I had moved my things from home to a dorm room. This time my sister was there to lend a hand. We finally arrived at the institutional-style brick building that was to be my home for the next three years. The August weather was typically hot and humid, but looking at the austere exterior of the dormitory, I suddenly felt a chill. As we entered the stuffy structure – it had no air conditioning – all my thoughts focused on the many trips we had to make. go up and down the three flights of stairs. Once enough boxes were in the small room, I started unpacking while my dad made the rest of the trips to the car. As I set up my new personal space, I forgot all my reservations and became quite energized. My roommate hadn't arrived yet, and my sister and I joked and laughed as we hung pictures and relived the events they described. When the mysterious roommate finally made her entrance, the room fell silent. I was never comfortable around new people and we came from such different backgrounds that I found no commonality that immediately united us. It would just take time, I decided, and that was something I figured we had more than enough of. Since I was almost done with my side of the room and my roommate and her parents weren't exactly talkative, my family and I decided to go out to dinner before making the trip home. ...... middle of paper ...... to the sink, but I couldn't bring myself to look in the mirror. I washed my face again, took a sip of water from my cupped hand, and walked back to my room shaking. At one point, in my stupor, I decided to call my mother at six, even though I knew she would wake up to go to work. I found my phone card and made another trip down the hall, this time to the phone booth. I felt so low I could have slipped to the ground. I had to tell her exactly what I had just experienced and that she was right: I wasn't ready to leave. I would have to go home with my tail between my legs and face something I had always struggled to admit: I needed help. I never wanted to spend another night like the one I had just experienced. At the time, I still had no idea what had happened to me, but I will never forget that first and worst panic attack..