Just Breathe

1. Social Anxiety

I don't think it's entirely fair the way this world works, but what does my opinion change? the world still runs the same as it would if I didn't care.

'Lola?' Mia says. I look at her and she leans her face towards me, the light from the window catches her eyes making her squint and lean backwards.

'Have you done the history assignment?' she whispers not so secretively.

I think back to the night before, I was lying on my bed staring at the ceiling for what felt like centuries before I finally got the courage to get up and do it. and when I did I sat at my desk and did the same thing except I replaced the ceiling with my history book this time.

'Yes' I don't know why I lie, but it's not like I can take it back now.

We sit in silence. I get the feeling I ruined the short conversation.

Then she chirps up, remembering something. 'Are you going to Mats party this Friday?'

As soon as the word party leaves her mouth I feel a lump form in my throat. Why is it called a party, why not just say a bunch of people drinking and making dumb decisions and then throwing up their regret in the morning.

'Probably not' I reply trying not to make eye contact.

'Please! you have to at least go to one party before you turn into an old fart'

'Ive been to a party' I say in defence.

'Your cousins 5th birthday party doesn't count'

'Why do you care if I go or not anyway?' I ponder, still avoiding her eyes.

'I haven't been to a party with you before, I would love it if you came.'

And here comes the guilt, If I go I will hate it, If I don't I will regret it.

Mia waits patiently for my answer.

'Alright' I say. Mia jumps up from her chair and engulfs me in a hug.

Do I want to go? No. Do I want to spend my Friday night with a bag of chips watching MAFS? Yes.

As Mia let's go the bell rings, signifying the final class. And before I know it I was standing outside my maths classroom. Im alone in this class, one of many. My hands are so sweaty I fear that they might start to drip. Im debating whether it's worth it when Mr. Holland opens the door.

'Oh Lola! Come inside Im just going to grab some paper." He says gesturing his hand to the classroom. I step inside, my head down and I sit at a desk near the back. I look around the classroom, It's full like usual. I grab my pencil out of my bag, but I can't grasp it properly because of the sweat.

I try wiping my hands on my coat, but it doesn't seem to want to leave. I sigh, someone looks at me. Did I sigh to loud? Do they think I'm weird for sighing so loud? I gather the strength to look up, I meet Toby's eyes for a second before looking away.

I know everyone in this class, not because I'm popular but because I pay attention to things normal people do not. Sometimes its annoying being the one who finds out things before other people, because I physically cannot say anything about it.

The teacher enters the classroom, passing out some paper.

'Fill out numbers from 1 to 20, if you need my help just raise your hand.' Mr. Holland says in a very monotone voice. I look at the paper but my mind can't focus. Why was Toby looking at me. Does he know something about me that no one else knows. I try and focus on the maths question but I feel heat gathering in my head.

I bring my hand to my forehead, which is very warm. I go to clear my throat but stop realising it will be too loud. I hear whispering and I look up to find someone looking right at me. They're talking about me. I know it. I shuffle in my seat and cross my legs, but I still cannot sit still so I fiddle with my pencil.

I read the first question and begin to write, my leg starts to shake so I un-cross it letting it bounce freely. I write the answer and move onto the next. The classroom begins to get louder, making my ears vibrate. I feel sick as I write down more answers. Stoping every few minutes to check my hearts still in my chest. The bell rings after what feels like hours.

Everyone runs out joking and laughing with their friends. My temperature begins to drop. My ears no longer vibrate from noise.

I grab my bag and walk out into the nearest lady's room. I push open one of the stall doors, slamming It behind me. I drop my bag and sit on the closed toilet seat. I bury my head in my hands. But I don't cry, I just breathe hysterically.

I wonder if I'll ever not feel like this. But I have to tell myself.

Just Breathe.