My Nonexistent Love Life

So he's Bipolar.

I sit in the back of the Orange Leaf parking lot for what feels like hours. In reality, only a few minutes have passed. I try my best to control myself, just to calm down just a little bit.

I take a deep breathe in and out slowly, sit up straighter, and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

I won't let this effect me. I am a good person and I know I am. Everything happens for a reason, right?

I start up the soccer mom car and stretch out my body before I start to drive. I extend my legs outward and move my arms around like a dinosaur with short arms. My foot hits the acceleration and it revved the engine. I jump and squeal looking around to see if anyone saw that.

I shift gears to reverse and turn around. My heartbeat quickens when I see a car behind mine, blocking me in. There are no cars on either side of me, so I inch backward carefully to not hit the strangers car. I hear a car door open and slam shut; I try to turn to the left but am too close to the gate in front of me. I back up again, and then move forward again.

"Wait, stop," a male voice shouts.

Shit, fuck, dammit, I'm going to die. What if I'm going to get raped? What does he want? I'm going to get taken.

My breath quickens as I think of the worst possibilities, and tears sting my eyes once again. I quickly find it hard to breathe, as I rush to back up and move forward in attempt to get away from the scene.

The feeling is familiar; I am starting to have a panic attack.

Suddenly, I can't take it anymore. I give up. I'm just going to die I guess, I get light headed thinking of it. I close my eyes and cry harder.

This is it.

I can't fucking breathe.

I hear a knock on my driver's window, my body shakes from crying and trying to get more air, but I don't move.

I can't move.

I can't breathe.

I hear my door handle jiggle, but it won't open because it's locked.

"Don't cry, please," the voice sternly says. I finally look up and faintly see Blake looking down at me.

Wait, Blake? The asshole? Blake opens the door behind the drivers seat and gets in.

"G-go away," I squeak. Blake climbs up to the front of the car and sits in the passenger seat.

"How about no." Blake sighs.

"W-will p-probably made you apologize, I-I-I know. You d-don't actually give a fuck," I look down at my lap and let my stray hairs from my messy bun cover my face. I don't let anyone see me like this.

No one gives a fuck about me anyway.

Silence fills the car, except for my short breaths and sniffles.

"I-If you came to make fun of m-me then l-leave. I-I don't even know y-you." I take a glance from the corner of my eye to see Blake staring ahead, his fists in balls.

"I-I-" Blake starts. "I'm Blake Conroy. I am 17 years old, almost 18." I feel his eyes staring at the side of my head.

"Oh," I sigh.

"I don't know why I'm here. I didn't mean what I said. Well I didn't mean most of-" Blake pauses, "Why don't you look at me when I talk? You look everywhere but me or my eyes."

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumble more to myself than Blake.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"