My First Blog Post

You’re in a bathroom stall. The light touches your eyes a bit too brightly, the color around is reminiscent of a kitchen sink, and the claustrophobia of the tight walls is all put aside because, for the moment, you are at peace. A faint hum of AC runs in the background, but no other noise exists, except for you.

Until panic runs into the room in the form of a person. They slam the next stall open and closed, rush the lock as though it would prevent a rebel army from ramming the door, throw their pants down, and smack the toilet paper dispenser like a chubby toddler learning how things spin. The serenity is gone. Your peace has been evicted. Now the anxiety sets in. Your throat tightens, the weight on your chest presses deeper, and you can’t quite find the right way to hold your hands.

This was supposed to be a break. Work has been stressful and you’ve been talking to people all day! Can’t you have five minutes of relief, literally and emotionally? They aren’t speaking, or at least, you certainly hope not (cell phone talking bathroom goers are a whole different ball game). But their presence is choking you. The assault seeps like smoke from their stall to yours, stealing your breath, making your skin itch, and sweat pool. Why does this person’s existence make you feel so vulnerable? You wish they could just-

Then it happens. Just as quickly as they rushed in, the toilet flushes, the soap pours, and the paper towel is ripped from its place. They’re gone.

But the feeling remains. Your throat still constricts. The discomfort feels like when your grandmother asks about your dating life. It sits on your back as you arise and return to work. Unbeknownst to them, you left that bathroom a little more scarred because they were an Aggressive Bathroom Goer.