Patrick Stump Imagines

Anxiety Problems

....I hate my mom... More about her in the authors note....

English was my favorite period of the day, and now... It's not. Mr. Full-of-himself told the entire class that were going to be doing about 3 speeches over the next few weeks of the new semester. Right when he said speeches, my heart stopped. Not literally, but figuratively.

For the past three years, I've noticed I have been having some sort of problem with social situations and just about everything else. I think about everything that could go wrong, think out an entire conversation I want to have and then not do it, think of things I want to say to my friends and then not say them, and so much more. I've gone as far as looking up how/why these these things should be related, and I believe I have gotten an answer: anxiety.

---

Today, Mr. Fuller has started having students in class volunteer to practice doing a speech. Only thing is, we all would have to go at some point. Me and my friend, Patrick, both are extremely afraid to do it, but my reason maybe different. Fucking anxiety, man.

Mr. Fuller is at the back of the class room, telling all of us what he is expecting. I'm not listening to him ramble, though. I'm talking to Patrick and our other two friends, trying to calm myself down. Then, he starts asking for volunteers. One by one, people slowly volunteer. During each one, I turn around and make some kind of joke to him, so maybe it can calm us both down. But my mind is else where.

During our friends little speech I just turn to him, saying "I think I'm going to need anti depressants or something..." Patrick goes wide eyed.

"Wait what?! Are you depressed, sweetie?? Are you alright?" Patrick asks me frantically, and I just laugh it off. It's not really a big of a deal if I have depression.

"Yeah, yeah. Anti depressants can help with anxiety. I really want to end this struggle I've been having with it. I may ask my dad about it later," I tell him sincerely, but the concern on his face doesn't go away. This maybe the first time in awhile someone is actually worried about me.

"You sure your not depressed?" He asks me with his gigantic puppy eyes. I nod at him. "Alright... I do think you should tell your parents about it, though. It's been bothering you for so long." I nod at him again, then turn around to listen to the rest of our friends speech.
---

I sat in front of my computer, trying to think of a good time to tell them. For sure, I need to get them when they're not angry with me. When they're like that, they're out for my blood. My mind is racing, trying not to think of each word I should say, and how I should start all this out. I let out a sigh, and wait for one of them to come into the room.

After about 30 minutes, my mom comes in to get a drink from the fridge. It's time... I get up from my chair and walk to the fridge like I'm looking for something.

"How do you diagnose anxiety?" I try to ask my mom out of the blue. Her eyebrows furrow and she looks at me then back at what she's doing.

"You go to, probably, a psychiatrist or something. Why?"

"Because I think I have anxiety..." I say slowly and clearly. She stops what she's doing for a second to let what I said sink in. She just shakes her head like she doesn't understand.

"How do you know?" And without thinking, I just blurt out what I always say.

"I don't know." Right then and there, I wanted to punch myself. My mom lets out a breath, and puts her water back in the fridge.

"If you don't know, then you don't have it. Besides, you're to young to have anxiety," She told me before she walked out of the room.

I stood there, stunned. This is why I should have went to my dad. This is why I don't tell her things. This is why I don't trust her. The person who said I shouldn't keep serious things like stress to myself, just blew off my plea for help.

My muscles tensed after a few minutes. The bitch cares more about other people more than me. Tears started to form in my eyes. I can't believe this. Actually, I can.

I whip out my phone and started to tell Patrick everything that just happened. Instantly, I got a response.

PStizzle: FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! There's no such thing as to young for anxiety. It's common amount people who are in school! She needs to fuck off.

I smiled at his response. This is a man who actually cares for his friends.

Me: I wish she'd just see that...

PStizzle: Whatever happens, Y/N, I'll still be here with you. Always and forever. I'll help you if they won't.

Patrick Stump is a gift to humanity.

Long Ranty Authors Note Ahead

My mother fucking Mom guys, I swear to god. She did this to me today. She told me when I broke down about my classes that I should tell her and my dad when I'm having trouble with anything, BUT LOOK NOW IM HAVING FUXKING TROUBLE WITH SOMETHING AND SHE BRUSHES IT OFF LIKE ITS NTHING.

I've noticed that she brushes any thing wrong with me off, but once one of my brothers have a problem, out comes the tablet to look things up to help them through it. But not me. The one who probably has a real problem. A problem that isn't fucking not being able to sleep. I swear to fucking God, I'm gonna end up killing someone because of her.

I'm pretty sure, not even a half an hour later she comments on how I drank 2 pepsi's when I don't home, and how I'm gonna get fat. BITCH IVE BEEN HAVING A SINGLE CLEMENTINE FOR BREAKFAST AND A SMALL FUCKING APPLE FOR LUNCH, YOU THINK IM GONNA GET FCKING FAT?!?? AND ON TOP OF THAT, I HAVE FO WALK A MILE AND A HALF HOME. THANKS FOR TEARIN ME DOWN MOM. THANKS A LOT.

I fucking hate her, I can't stand it here. Only a few more years until I can move out. Until I can move in with my friends and have a chance at being happy.

Sorry for the ranty note. I just really needed to get it out. Also sorry if the imagine sucks, I'm basically anger writing this.

Also, if you guys have any tips for getting over anxiety for speeches, I'd love to hear them. Please help me overcome this.

Sorry again about this! See you next time, with hopefully a better written imagine! Love you, friends!

-Dawn~