“Tell me about yourself,” they say.
“Erm —”
I’m a socially awkward, dehydrated undergrad who flaunts corporate jargon but wouldn’t last a second in the real world. After my first year of university, I’ve achieved a 30 per cent increase in anxiety and a 50 per cent reduction in self-esteem. In my spare time, my blood boils in the trenches of the battlefield they call the job market. Moving forward, I strive to seek vengeance on the entire corporate world.
“What are your summer plans?”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Other than roasting in the heat, lying like a starfish on my covers in an AC-less room, sinking into my bed instead of reaching for stars, or the clouds or even the cereal on the top shelf, while my armpit sweat saturates the sheets.
“Well, do you have an internship yet?”
My cheeks flush as I shake my head. I tug at my collar, squirming. My clammy thighs stick to the plastic seat, gluing me in place to endure what feels like a microscopic inspection of my unpromising future. My knee trembles and my heel thumps the squeaky floor so rapidly my foot burns a hole through my sole. I hope the ground crumbles into a chasm and shoots me straight through to the fiery gates of hell.
“What about plans after graduation?”
“Well …”
My heartbeat pounds from my neck to my toes — my entire body pulsing like a bass drum. The valleys between my fingers are slick with moisture and reek of some kind of fungi. I rub my hands on my thighs and try to think of something to say other than a confession of a quarter-life crisis.
“How’d your interview go?” they ask.
Please don’t — anxiety churns in my stomach like a sandstorm, parching my esophagus and throat and tongue until my voice is raspy. I fan myself with floppy hands to combat all the liquid in my body oozing out of my pores and running down my face until I can’t tell if it’s sweat or tears. I try to swallow, but my mouth is as scorched as a crater on Venus filled with sulphuric ashes. I heave. My lungs burst like volcanoes. Blood-red lava engulfs me from the inside out.
Is it hot in here, or just me?
This piece was published under The Ubyssey's Creative Non-fiction Corner. Want to submit a personal essay, short story or poem? Subscribe to our features newsletter for monthly writing prompts under this column.
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