Chapter 2: What are you wearing? Oh, Depends.

It was my last class for the day, and I was headed back from Ecsch Hall to my dorm on the other side of campus.  I was about halfway there, when I start feeling panic.  My pace quickened.  I started looking around me for escape options, but I knew the quickest way to a destination was a straight line.  My dorm was now in site, and I decided to push forward knowing there was no way I could make it inside the building next to me in time.  As I approached the road that stood between me and my destination, it happened.  I lost control. 

I felt its warmth as it slithered down my leg.  Quickly, I pulled my jacket off and tied it around my waste.  Finally, making it to the entrance of my dorm, I was greeted by a resident.  “Hi Brandie!  How are you doing?” “I’m just great.  Gotta go.  Talk to you later,” I replied.  Never being more thankful that my dorm room was just a few steps away from the front door, I entered my room with relief.  By the time I reached my bathroom, the damage was done.  Another pair of underwear…destroyed by the brown bomber.  I cleaned up the mess, once again, and got dressed. 

With the situation under control, I let myself lose control.  I cried.  I cried for all the times this had happened before.  I cried over the loss of my favorite pair of underwear.  I cried because I was a twenty year old who couldn’t keep her shit together…literally. 

I had lost everything.  My pride had been flushed down the toilet with what was left of my latest bowel movement.  My hope was draining, as well as my strength.  Control had left me months ago.  I was losing the battle.       

A knock on the door forced me to choke down my emotions and wipe away my tears.  When I opened the door, what I found on the other side was a blessing.  “Molly,” I sighed.  It was my best friend.  The tears started rolling down my face again as she walked in to console me.  Somehow she knew I needed her.  I wasn’t alone.  I didn’t have to face this alone anymore.  By the time I was done with her shoulder, it was drenched with my salty tears.
...To be continued.