By Corinne Doll
It is only late afternoon, but my room is dark. The rain is pounding against my window — quite like the pounding I feel in my head — and it seems to be getting louder. It’s almost as loud as the tenants above me who are singing off key to 80’s rock music with their fellow fraternity brothers. If only I had the strength to make my way upstairs to ask them to quiet down. Alas, I do not.
My body aches as I cough up air; the dryness inside me contradicting the downpour beyond my window. As I reach for the water on my nightstand, my phone rings. I ignore it. The thought of pushing words out of my mouth, straining my already aching throat, makes me shiver. Yet, maybe it was not the thought that made me shiver, but the fact that I was now sweating in a 69 degree room. I can feel beads forming on my shins, nose and neck. My hair is sticking to me the way it usually sticks to the walls of my shower. Maybe that’s what I need — a shower.
I crawl out of bed to the sound of rain and the inspirational rendition of 1984 hit “We’re Not Gonna Take It” being performed above me. The bathroom floor is cold on my feet, so I climb over the bathtub walls and turn on the warm water that flows from the shower head above. I close my eyes and let the stream envelop me. This is where my world goes silent.
Doll is a public relations senior