Sam sat on his bed, staring at the open notebook on his lap. The words were there, scattered

across the page, but none of them made sense. It was his second year of college, and despite

trying harder than most, everything felt like an insurmountable challenge.

The world outside his window was buzzing - people laughing, cars honking, life moving

forward. Inside, Sam was stuck. His mind was a tangled web of thoughts that never seemed

to line up in the right order.

At 20, Sam had been living with ADHD for as long as he could remember. Diagnosed when

he was seven, his childhood had been filled with therapy sessions, medication trials, and a

constant barrage of well-meaning advice from teachers and doctors. But none of it had

prepared him for the chaos of the real world - of college lectures that moved too fast,

social dynamics that felt overwhelming, and responsibilities that seemed to pile up faster

than he could keep up with.

INT. DORM ROOM - DAY

His phone buzzed. A text from Mark, his only real friend at college, popped up.

MARK (TEXT): Hey man, study group tonight?

Sam sighed. Study groups were supposed to help him focus, but they always left him feeling

more lost. While others could sit still for hours, making sense of equations and texts, Sam's

mind wandered - from the details of the problem to the shape of the clouds outside the

window, to a sudden urge to reorganize his desk.

He wanted to respond but couldn't find the words. The phone vibrated again.

MARK (TEXT): If not, no pressure. I know it's hard for you.

Mark understood. In a world where most people didn't, that was something. Sam

appreciated it, but it also made him feel guilty. Why couldn't he just be like everyone else?

Why did his brain refuse to cooperate?

Instead of replying, Sam shoved the phone aside and stood up. His dorm room felt

claustrophobic - textbooks, clothes, half-empty coffee cups scattered everywhere. He

couldn't focus here.

EXT. CAMPUS COURTYARD - LATE AFTERNOON

He walked outside, into the open air. The cool breeze was a relief, cutting through the

mental fog. Sam stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets and wandered aimlessly. The

campus was quiet now, most students in the library or huddled in cafes. He liked this hour

- the space to breathe, no one around to judge his distracted stares or restless fidgeting.

Ahead, the library loomed, its glass windows reflecting the fading sunlight. Sam stopped,

staring at it. A place designed for focus, concentration - everything that eluded him. He

often wondered what it would feel like to be able to sit there for hours, uninterrupted, like

others did. To finish an assignment without his mind veering off track a hundred times.

He could hear the voices of his professors, sometimes patient, sometimes frustrated.

PROFESSOR'S VOICE (ECHOING IN HIS MIND): You need to apply yourself, Sam. You're

smart, but you're not focusing.

But how could he explain that trying to focus felt like trying to catch smoke in his hands?

Suddenly, he noticed a bench nearby and sat down. For a moment, he just breathed,

watching the sky turn shades of orange and purple.

His mind quieted. In this rare calm, he allowed himself to feel something he often avoided:

acceptance. He wasn't broken. He wasn't less than. He was just different.

He pulled his phone out again, typing slowly this time.

SAM (TEXT): Not feeling up for the group tonight. But thanks for asking, man. Maybe we can

grab coffee tomorrow?

He hit send and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

The world was noisy, overwhelming, and relentless, but in these quiet moments, Sam

realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to face it like everyone else. He could find

his own way through the maze, even if it took him longer, even if it was harder.

And for tonight, that was enough.

---

End