Hour Thirteen
I felt hot tears in the sides of my eyes, and after a while of trying to hold them in, they started to race each other down my face.
In, out, in, out. I commanded myself to breathe. The panic attacks are unbearable when you're all alone in an unfamiliar place. In, out, in, out.
"I fucked up. I did. I hurt him. I didn't mean to make him feel that way. I have to go. I have to find him."
I walked out of the room to look for him.
This thing I'm doing, muttering to myself, is a coping mechanism I've developed over the years. I speak quietly to organize my thoughts and express my feelings, because I believe getting them out of my mouth gets them out of my head. "I have to make this right. I have to. I did something wrong. I gotta fix it."
And there, sitting on the poolside, kicking the water gently with his feet, was the guy I suddenly felt too scared to lose.
