The concert was almost over, even though it felt like it just started. Sweat was dripping down my face, from all the jumping around I had done throughout the performance. Billie Joe Armstrong's voice turned my body into pure energy, and I couldn't help hopping around to the beat of their amazing music. Jimmy was having the time of his life, somehow, getting ahold of even more alcohol. God only knows how. Billie Joe's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"I need a voleenteer!" He shouted into the microphone, sweat dribbling down his beautiful face.
The whole entire crowd screamed, shouted, and jumped up and down so hard it sent vibrations though my complete being. I clutched my ears tightly, and held my head low. God it made my ears feel like they were bleeding. Something was wrong, my heart felt like it was in my throat choking me, and I felt like I couldn't catch my breath. I felt completly cold, and alone. Except I was surrounded by hundreds of suffocating bodies. Shivers began to jolt my being, and I hugged myself tightly. I felt like I was going to die, and it made me begin to cry out. Jimmy had drifted off towards a crowd of girls, and wasn't close enough to hear my distress.
I closed my eyes, and tried to focus on my breathing for a moment. I was going to be fine, it is simply a panic attack. I know this because I had them often. It's just so hard to talk yourself out of having one. Especially when you feel so small, and so very alone. Crowds sometimes triggered them for me, unfortunately. I wasn't in the right place at the right time for mental health. Soon, hopefully, I will feel completly normal again.
"You." Billie pointed the mike towards my direction.
No it couldn't be. He couldn't be pointing at me; the blubbering mess that couldn't convince herself she is in fact breathing. I sniffled, and wiped away the wet streaks on my face with the back of my hand. Mascara left behind the evidence of my tears. I was still overthinking, and not nearly over my panic attack. I still felt the choking sensation, and the iceiness that it brought upon me. This made it worse. If he did in fact pick me, I could shut down again.
"Huh?" I wispered, knowing somehow that his eyes were on me. They were kind, and soft. Understanding.
"Yes, you." He wispered into the microphone, calling me up towards him.
My breath was coming very shortly, and my heart beating much too fast to be healthy. It felt like my heart was going to jump up out of my throat, and run away from everything. My mouth was gaped open slightly, out of surprise. The cold chills were coming over me stronger now, and I lifted my foot, that was as heavy as a cinder block, to decend towards the tall stage. The security guards lifted me off my feet as soon as I came towards them, and easily sat me down on the shiny stage floor. I stood up, and stared wide-eyed at the immeasly large crowd. I felt like a deer caught in a semi-truck's headlight's.
"Shhh, it's okay. Calm down, or your gonna pass out from hyperventilating. Try not to think about the panic attack." Billie wispered soothingly into my left ear, his warm breath brushing over my hair.
"How di-"
"What's your name?" He asked, cutting me off entirly with the loudness of the microphone.
God that was a bit rude. I narrowed my eyes at him, knowing he'd catch it.
"Octobr." I mumbled.
"Do you know the lyrics to, 21 Guns?" He asked, a devious smile on his pale lips.
"Yea, why?" I asked, forgetting the fear, and forgetting the crowd entirely once his eyes locked on mine. His neon green eyes had isolated me from everything it seemed. They were so incredibly calming.
"Sing along with me." He demanded, softly, making me hardly notice.
"Do you know what's worth fighting for?" He began, waiting for the next line to be sung by me .
