The Blackmail Dilemma

Dare Me To Relax

I didn't expect him to answer. I didn't expect him to pick up on the third ring either. Because I really thought he didn't wanna talk to me anymore. I mean, who the hell did want to talk to me. I wouldn't blame him if he let me go to voicemail. I wouldn't have blamed him if he ignored me for everything that I had done, especially because our mutual friends hated me. But he did answer, and I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to start. I knew what I wanted to say, and I knew what had to be said. I just didn't know how to form the words, what to start with so that he didn't hang up.

"Hey," I started with. That was the only word, the only syllable, I would squeeze past my lips. The other end of the line was silent. Maybe he was thinking about what to say as well. I mean, it would make sense for both of us to feel awkward. This was a conversation that was difficult to have. This was a conversation I didn't even want to have, but I did at the same time. If we got past the hard part, maybe I could get my friend back.

"I need to see you." I could feel my lungs constrict again, panic building inside me. I had to shut down my anxiety, pretend it didn't exist. I didn't have time for it. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressed my phone flush against my ear, pressing into my skin. "Can we go watch the planes again?" I let out a breath. "It wasn't like we were really watching, since it was three am and all last time. But maybe this time we can stay for the sunrise. Or we can just talk. Or we can just sit there in silence I don't care I just need to see you."

I wanted to cry again. I couldn't cry again. The night before, I had cried too much. Friday night, I cried myself to sleep. It was now the middle of the night, the middle of the night on Saturday, and I guess we just got along better in the middle of the night. It would be kind of weird to do this in the middle of the day, since maybe someone could see us. But the night, it was our friend. I feel like it bonded us, in a way that nothing else had bonded us before. So, I wanted to end where we began, if there was an end. And if this was a new beginning, then I wanted our new beginning to be where everything really began.

"Okay," he responded.

"Okay," I said.

"I'll pick you up?"

"Sounds good".

Click, the line went dead. I let out a breath I didn't know that I had been holding, tucking my knees up to my chin as I sat in my bed, staring off into space. I needed a script of what to say to him, but I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. The voice inside my head controlled by my anxiety wouldn't shut up. She said, "What if he doesn't forgive you? What if he hates you. What if everyone hates you forever? What if you never make new friends, and you're stuck hating yourself for the rest of your life?" And then I was spiraling again, thoughts moving a hundred miles an hour. I flopped back onto my bed, my head narrowly missing the headboard. I drew my knees to my chest, squeezed my eyes shut. I felt full fledged panic. I felt like I needed to run far far away to escape my thoughts. I felt like I needed to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. I felt like the thoughts would never end unless I ended myself.

Deep breath in. Out. Like the therapist said, my brain couldn't be anxious while I was deep breathing. In. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I felt a little better. If I focused on my breathing, I couldn't focus on the negative thoughts floating through my head. The thoughts saying "You're worthless. You deserve nothing. This is all your fault. You can never make things right. You've always been a coward." Because every time I felt like I was making progress, thinking a little better about myself, everything went spiraling. My thoughts never shut up, my anxiety never shut up.

Ding! I picked up my phone. He was here. How long had I been spiraling for? Minutes? An hour? Who knew. I quickly gathered my phone and keys, slipped on some shoes, and ran down the stairs to the door. Not a soul stirred as I opened the door and closed it behind me. His vehicle sat in front of my house, a beacon in the dark. Lightning lit up the sky as I walked to his passenger door and opened it.