As I stare at the screen, grasping for an idea, that is when they all scurry into their dens for the winter. Nothing comes out to offer its assistance. Nothing steps forward to take a share of this burden beating down on my chest. I drown under the heavy load. I struggle for breath as panic envelops me. What am I doing? This is not my right. Not my mother tongue. Not my place. I struggle to pull myself over this panic, a too-small blanket that springs off me with too much excitement. Not even it wants to help me. I’m stuck with the worst bout of writer’s block I’ve ever known. Not even my own mother tries to help, not that I’ve given her much incentive. No one understands. Maybe I should just give up on college. Mom’d really flip if I did that.