breath in... three... two... one... his breath shakes. his stomach is curling.
all he was doing was trying it build the courage to go to school.
think of all those people. they're all there. looking at me. judging me. talking about me. why does that bother me?
he grips onto the door handle dizzy, the room seemed to be turning, his legs locking unable to move... and sadly this was normal.
kind of.
after the few weeks of therapy he'd had, it was honest to say absolutely nothing had changed since before, except knowing how to control himself.
three... two... one...
and in his head was scenarios of meeting up with tyler looping... and looping... he knew tyler wasn't rude, so why did he expect him to be so toxic towards him? why did he feel tyler wouldn't like him?
before he knows it, he's leaning into the toilet and food hurling out of his mouth. in fear. what? why?
what was so complicated?
"josh! you're going to be late!" his father calls from downstairs. the father that seems to care...
but didn't even believe in anxiety. he wanted a normal son, and did anything to convince himself he had one.
right, okay, josh, pull yourself together.
he fills his mouth with some extra-strong-and-minty-mouth-wash before swilling it around and spitting it into the sink...
late, ok, late, just what i need for more attention.
he pulls his bag over his shoulders, tripping over his feat as the slowly makes his way down the stairs to his front door.
the stairs were getting steeper... weren't they?
"you ok, son?" his dad asks, grabbing his hand gently bringing josh to the bottom of the stair case.
josh nods, giving his dad a thumps up 'i'm ok'.
"ok, get in the car, let me just find my keys."
of course it was a like josh was "ok".
but it was a much more simple answer, wasn't it?
it wasn't like his parent learnt how to sign- so, well, that was the only answer he could give without a second question.
his breath breaks, and he steps into the car to cry a bit more...
just stop.
