I feel dazed. Objects start flying all across the room. The wind appears from out of nowhere. Everything starts flying, using the guidance from the wind. Books, papers, pencils, pens, and even scissors. A tornado formed from the thought in my head. It slowly lifts me in the air, my feet no longer touching the ground. The color that streaks the cyclone is a representation of my emotions. Red lightly streaks the bottom, and strongly colors the top and the mid-section. A dash of light gray and green touches the mid-section. Purple colors the cyclone throughout. My daze slowly fades to relief. I can feel the other’s shocked gazes on me and my cyclone. But, for once, I don’t care. I feel free. I no longer feel the stress. I close my eyes. the sound fades away. I can no longer hear my peers shout. I only focus on the calmness and the new, cool feeling in my brain. Then, I open my eyes. Sound comes rushing back to me. I am suddenly aware of all the commotion. I hear the panicked cries of adults and teenagers alike. I can feel the strong wind move all around me. I try to control it, and eventually, I catch ahold of the storm. As I ease it down, the noises grow louder. Making the storm has taken too much of my energy. I see dots dancing in front of my eyes. The storm dies down, and I’m left with a crowd of people staring at us with amazement and shock. I can see that they have questions. Questions to which they want answers. But, I cant. I’m too busy trying to stay on my feet. But, I easily lose to unconsiousness. Darkness takes over me and I lose my balance. I expect to crash into the ground. But, as I fall, the only collision I feel is when I land on a warm pair of hands.