Black Sheep

Pins and Needles

•Y/N: Your Name
•L/N: Last Name
•E/C: Eye Color

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Your POV:
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The familiar sound of a bell dinging marks my entrance upon coming into a small building crammed between two larger ones in the city. The soft taps of my dark brown boots against the hardwood floor go in rhythm with my steps as I pass by the few shelves of plush toys lining the navy blue walls of the establishment. Mentally, I take note of any missing spaces that would need to be filled in before opening for the day. Not everything had been restocked the night before, so it'd have to be done today. This place belongs to me, Y/N L/N.

A few years ago, I opened this sewing shop, which I've dubbed Pins and Needles, where I design and create clothes, stuffed animals and accessories. It may not be anything exciting, but I do enjoy it. The store is close to home, which makes things very simple for me, considering I don't own a car. I tend to get a decent flow of customers in and out, but on most days, it's barely enough for me to scrape by, what with the cost of owning the place, rent for my apartment, and having at least the basic necessities to live. I try to look on the bright side, though.

I knew it'd be hard at times, but things could be worse. This shop has been my dream for many years, so I'll do everything I can to keep it running. After all, sewing is a passion of mine. I just find it so relaxing, plus it helps me deal with the magnificent amount of stress I'm put under on a daily basis. It's best if I keep the strain as minimal as possible, since I have a rather... serious condition.

How cliché it is to have awful anxiety issues, but it truly is a critical problem I face often. It's so bad that I have the possibility of literally dying because of it. I mostly have it under control now with the medicine I take every morning, but I know it won't ever go away. It starts as a regular panic attack, where I have trouble breathing, then it sometimes extends into a seizure. Other times, I'll be coughing violently enough to spit up blood, which worries me the most, honestly, for it usually comes out in large pools.

I recall one of my worst instances, the day after graduation from high school, when I was kicked out of the house by my mother. She was always a bit on the off side, but I never thought she'd lock me out like that. After I begged constantly for her to let me in, I found myself crying my eyes out and ran to my boyfriend's house to ask if he'd let me spend the night, thinking mom would've come to her senses by morning. Sadly, that was not the case, for when I went back, the house was almost completely empty. She had managed to slip away during the night, taking anything she could with her and put the house up for sale, leaving me alone... with nothing...