Anxious. Oh so anxious. There’s an anxious balloon inside of me that is quickly inflating and threatening to burst. I just need to get out of here, and soon. Sometimes the balloon gets so big that I have to find creative ways to let the air out. I’ve packed up the majority of my cubicle of a room many times, only to unpack it again when I realize that I still have a week left and need some of my things. This apartment feels so contaminated and cold. Spiders crawl out of every crack and crevice and lizards have slid inside under the door too many times. I long to take showers without sandals, use a dishwasher, and eat homemade food. Summer cannot come quick enough.