. . .
. . .I wipe the last of the vomit-drool from my face - we lock eyes. The loans and I just stare. Hours, maybe even years pass and I can not break the dark, cold, soul-molesting stare of the loans. I feel weak. I feel lost. How can I win this battle?
The loans' powerful, menacing stare makes it impossible for me to create a inner-monologue. It is evading my thoughts, stealing my memories. I. Can. Not. Think.
Black.
The loans' powerful, menacing stare makes it impossible for me to create a inner-monologue. It is evading my thoughts, stealing my memories. I. Can. Not. Think.
Black.