The flicker of fluorescent lights above you echoed your turbulent thoughts. Through the bustling hallway, the world seemed more vivid than usual, everything louder, faster. You had hoped that the disorder of the corridor would drown out the whirlwind in your mind, but it only seemed to amplify it. Was the door locked when you left? You had checked, hadn't you? Or did you forget again amidst the jumbled symphony of thoughts within you? It was impossible to remember.
The constant surge of ideas and sudden impulses, the never-ending cycle of starting something but never finishing it, and the constant worry. It was a struggle every day. The world didn't seem to understand, but that night something unusual happened.
As you were pacing, a sprightly figure bumped into you with enough force to send papers flying from your hands. As you bent down to pick them up, a cheery voice said,
"Whoops, sorry, I was just admiring the way that floor tile over there sort of catches the light, you see?"
You looked up at the stranger who had caught some of your papers – a young man with tousled hair of varying colors, a grin on his face, his eyes brimming with vitality.
His bright, mismatched attire was quite a sight in this otherwise mundane hallway. He handed a stack of papers back to you and continued,
"Oh, and by the way, you did lock the door. Trust me, I know. Because, well, I'm your ADHD."
He finished with a wink, leaving you even more bewildered.
"Have I finally lost it?" you wondered silently to yourself.
