I woke up feeling as if a million ants were crawling over my skin. However, I attempted to forget about the itchy feeling as I left to attend my middle school fair. I was ready to sing on the stage with my classmates.

Waiting in the direct sunlight with my classmates was miserable. I felt as if I was drowning in the humid, hot air. The sun beat down upon my skin, causing it to become very itchy once again. More time passed, and the sensation became stronger and stronger until it became painful. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I continued waiting with my classmates even though I could no longer focus on anything except my itchy skin. I tried scratching, hoping to relieve the pain, but it didn’t work. I thought about leaving, but my family had repeatedly told me that I always overreact. For once, I wanted to prove my family wrong. As I was itching, I felt a strange texture underneath my fingers. Looking down, I saw my arms and legs were covered in tiny, pus filled, red bumps. Internally, I was terrified, but I kept a calm composure. I hoped that by staying calm, a teacher would not notice and then would not force me to leave the fair. I sifted through my memory to recall what was the cause of these bumps. Then I remembered. Last weekend, I had gone camping with my family, and I had stupidly strayed off the guided path. My mother had told me not to stray from the path; however, I did not listen to her. I was adventurous and wanted to explore.

When the time came to perform, I pushed my way through the crowd of parents and walked towards the large stage. The parents cheered us on as we began singing the song. Halfway through, pain seared through my body, and the feeling became an unbearable burning. I finally allowed myself to over-exaggerate. In the middle of the song, I ran off the stage, scratching my skin as hard as I could. I cried as I rushed towards the air-conditioned building. As soon as I was out of the sun, the unbearable pain vanished, and the pain was replaced by mere itchiness. I could finally relax.

Because of this painful experience, I have learned to always listen to my parents. I did not listen to them, and I paid dearly for it. The consequence of not listening is not worth a single moment of excitement.