I find one of the best analogies for my situation is surprisingly the movie 47 Meters Down: Two girls go cage diving to spot some great white sharks, but to their dismay, the chain holding the cage just six meters underwater snaps, and allows them to drop 47 meters. For the girls there is an important decision to be made: whether or not to stay confined behind the bars which will keep them safe, or to swim for their lives in the hopes of avoiding being eaten.

When I left period 8 to use the restroom, and he turned the corner as I did, my body froze, and my brain boiled. I wasn’t sure whether to run, whether to punch, or whether to just simply stand there: dazed. So much went through my head in such a short amount of time. There was a war between rational and illogical phobia in my head. Was there actually an immediate danger? Or was this just something I had to breathe through? I was bait in a shark’s utopia, helpless, confused, and naeve. I often compare the compromise I made with myself in that moment to those sisters deciding to swim for the surface, with decompression stops. I settled on a very brisk walk with the occasional glance over the shoulder.