social anxiety//phan au (discontinued)

1

phil

Three loud taps of a ruler hitting my wooden desk entered my now ringing ears, causing my eyes to spring open, startled. It felt as if my heart skipped a beat. It was the fourth time I'd fell asleep today and probably the hundredth time this week. The sound of chuckling of other students traveled throughout the classroom.

"See me after class," Mrs. Rowan whispered to me. I just nodded, hesitantly, and she went on about whatever she had been teaching beforehand.

Looking around, students were staring at me. I felt all of my body tense up. My heart was pounding. I hated nothing more than bringing attention to myself. I felt my cheeks flush red, and I looked down at my pale, cold hands in shame. Soon after, I found it difficult to breathe.

I was having a panic attack.

Feeling my eyes swell to the brim with tears, I decided that I needed to get out the classroom. I grabbed the book on my desk, quickly threw my school bag over my shoulder, and rushed out the classroom. This happened more often than it should, maybe twice a day, caused by my horrible social anxiety and large amount of mental issues.

As I shut the door behind me, I felt all of my tears just fall as if they were rain in a storm. I was shaking vigorously, and I knew I wasn't going to stop anytime soon. I threw my bag and put my book down as I sat myself up against the lockers. I pulled my knees to my chest, and cried into my light blue jacket sleeves.

"Just breathe, Phil... Just breathe," I would tell myself.

Inhale. Exhale. I knew it'll take a while for me to completely recover, but it'd also take the strength to not have another panic attack until the next morning, which seemed very unlikely. I try though, I really do, and sometimes, I'd succeed, but most of the time, I don't.

I've been having panic attacks like this for as long as I can remember, getting progressively worse over the years. It's a normal part of my everyday life that just can't be dealt with. Medication isn't an option for me now. Financially, it's not, and as of now, I don't think it ever will be. All the money I make working at the library goes toward house bills and groceries. Those always come first. Medication can wait. As I said before, this has been happening for the majority of my life, and though it'd be nice to live without them, I'm able to live with them.

After minutes of trying to calm down, I decided that I was calm enough to go back into class. I wasn't even close to feeling okay, obviously, but I knew that I was at the point to where I could control myself. I was still shaking, but I knew I wasn't going to break down again until I was in a similar situation.

Before going back into the classroom, though, I decided to go to the bathroom to wash my face. Looking at my sleeves, I could tell that my eyeliner was horribly smudged, if not completely rubbed off.

I'm not sure why I ever bothered with makeup. I knew it would just get messed up, but for some reason, I really didn't care. It's not even for reasons you may think. I don't know why I do it. I'm not even sure if I like doing it. I just do. I guess it's because I've been doing it for so long. It's sort of become a necessity to me.

I picked myself off the ground along with my book and bag and started to slowly walk to the bathroom. I wasn't worried about Mrs. Rowan giving me shit for taking forever. As I said, this happens quite often so all my teachers know about my panic attacks by now, that being the reason they don't come to my rescue after storming out of their classrooms.

The halls were completely empty, seeming to only be filled with the sounds of teachers teaching, sometimes yelling, and students complaining. It wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, but I guess it fit the setting of it all. It was a school, if it wasn't clear, so the unpleasant atmosphere came naturally.