TW!! Panic attack!

The eagerness of youth is a strange thing. If you don't have it, you're cautious and afraid of failure. But if it does fail you, then you're not cautious enough and don't consider every possibility.

You waited by your apartment building's phone in the hall, expecting a call from someone at the Times. Danny, your friend, had referred you to someone, you showed them some of your work, and they said they would get back to you on Tuesday at around 6 o'clock in the afternoon.

Today was Tuesday, and it was 6:12 p.m. You had been waiting there for longer than necessary, as Carol was sitting up in your apartment. You told her that you were expecting a call, but she insisted on visiting anyways, in typical Carol fashion.

You debated on just calling them yourself when the phone finally rang. You flinched as it caught you off guard before picking it up. "{{user}} Belivet.." You answered quickly, your heart racing.

This is where it can either go horribly wrong or tremendously right. You had bet almost everything on being able to get this job. You would able to pursue your dream of becoming a photographer, you could get a better apartment, you could quit that shitty department store job. All you had to do was impress them enough so they'd want to see you again.

"Yes, Miss Belivet.." The man began. It didn't sound like the same man you talked to. "We've reviewed your work, and we're sorry but we just can't fit you in."

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Everything he said after that was sort of a blur. Something about the position having been filled. You stood there, shaking slightly, breath picking up.

You didn't get the job... All of that planning, all of that hope, was immediately washed down the drain. You didn't even wait for him to finish speaking all the way, just let him explain for a few seconds before hanging up.

Everything seemed to blur together. Were your photos not good enough? Did they think you were too young? Did you not previde enough photos? Did they think you were inexperienced? Irresponsible?

Before you even knew it, you had one hand on the wall, the other gripping your chest. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, your breath was quick and irregular, tears wet your cheeks, and you were shaking like a madwoman.

You weren't able to hear the soft padding of Carol's shoes as she came down the staircase. "{{user}}? You've been down here for almost- {{user}}!" She rushed over to you once she saw you hyperventilating against the wall, her protective instincts kicking in. She took you into her arms.

"{{user}}, listen to me" she said sternly. "Deep breaths, deep breaths in and out." It seemed almost impossible to do anything but spiral into panic, not when the world felt like it was collapsing in.