Just Keep Breathing

Have you ever had one of those moments where, for no reason at all, you feel like screaming or throwing something breakable at a wall? Right now was on of those moments, and internally, I couldn’t quite figure out if this was the beginning of a panic attack, or if I just needed the release of throwing my vase (flowers and all) at the wall in front of me.

Throwing the vase wasn’t an option. Not only would my mother be horrified to hear the noise of it, but she would probably also punish me for potentially wrecking my bedroom wall that I practically forced her to paint when I was thirteen.

Despite my random and increasing anger, I felt great. There were no distractions right now and I was just laying half off my bed with my legs on the mattress and my upper body and face hanging off the side. Perhaps it was the blood overflowing in my brain that made me feel so annoyed at the moment.

I pulled myself up and sat on my bed properly before shaking my head, trying to get the feeling of sitting up to quickly to go away.

When that strange feeling didn’t pass, I started to realize hanging upside down wasn’t what was really making me feel bad, and by the time I noticed I was panicking, it was way to late to strop it.

Cold chills spread over my body and my head started to spin. I rolled over in my bed and slid under the blankets, curling into a ball and closing my eyes. I could wish away this feeling all I wanted, but that wouldn’t stop any of it.

If you stepped back to look at this scene, the image of a normal eighteen year old would vanish and would be replaced with a pathetic looking girl huddled under her blankets like they could still protect her from the monsters under her bed.

In reality, it wasn’t the monsters under my bed that threatened my sanity, it was the monsters in my own mind; if you could even call panic attacks monsters. Either way, both monster and panic attacks had the ability to turn a normal person into a helpless wreck.

And that’s exactly what I was; a helpless wreck. Especially now, after going two weeks without an attack, I think karma has found a way to bite me in the ass and make me pay for all of it at once.

I muscled up the strength I had and rolled out of my bed, heading shakily into my bathroom. I turned the faucet connected to the sink to cold and waited for the water to turn icy. Leaning my face down, I splashed the cold water on my face and looked up into the mirror, pretty much ashamed of myself.

I heard a light tap come from my door. Ignoring it made the knock come again, and again, and a fourth time. I sighed and became frustrated with the person. I walked over to the door and opened it harshly, thinking it was my mom.

Leaning against the door frame was Oli, with that usual smirk on his face. It faded quickly when he saw me and my glaring eyes.

“Jeez Elle, you look horrid.” Oli said and then caught the expression on my face and quickly tried to change his words, “I mean you just look really, I dunno really, traumatized I guess or just really mad. What’s wrong?”

I peaked out and looked down the hallway before opening my door and letting him into my room. I watched him as he looked around, eying my over organized and clean room.

“So ya goin’ to tell me?” He asked and sat on the edge of my bed, “Or am I goin’ to have to mess up your room a bit to get it out of ya.”

I smiled a bit, thinking it was strange that he knew what would push my buttons. I sat on my bed next to him and laid back on the blankets, sinking into the fabric.

“A freak out.” I mumbled, feeling pathetic for having to admit it. “Ya’know, my little panic problem. It got to me today.”

“I thought you said it was no biggie.” He replied. I’m kind of surprised he actually listened to me when I had told him.

“Well I lied a little.” I confessed.

I reached my arm up and grabbed his, pulling him back on the bed with me. He tilted his head in my direction and smiled, leaned in a bit and pecking my lips lightly.

We laid there and talked a little, our hands finding each other and lacing together.

As much as I wanted to just enjoy this cute little moment, all the thoughts I had from last night came back. I was really starting to like him, but I had the seconds thoughts that kept telling me I might just be a game to Oli.

I guess it’s normal to have weird thoughts when you like someone, on some level it might be kind of healthy to weigh both sides on the situation. I, however, wouldn’t be able to weigh both sides properly.

&&

When your mom catches you in the kitchen with one of your brother's friends, and he hasn’t been home all day and isn’t expected home until late, let me know what kind of look she gives you because right now, I think she’s yelling at me with her eyes.

We weren’t doing anything either; Oli was seated up on the counter as I made quesadillas on the stove and we were just talking.

I guess this counts as inappropriate behavior for her daughter, because every time my mother passed the kitchen she shot me those disapproving looks.

Oli caught on quickly to the situation and offered to leave. I tried to tell him it didn‘t matter, knowing my mom was over reacting, but he didn‘t listen. I was only worried that she would mention something to my brother.

I walked him to the front door and let him kiss me quickly before my mom walked by the hall and he left. I was pissed that my mom had to be so uptight about all of this.

It turned out a good thing that Oli left when he did. My brother came home early to change for Steven’s party and left. He normally would have tried to invite me, but I knew he didn’t because Oli was going to be there and he wasn’t going invite me somewhere that Oli and I could potentially be alone.

So here I am on a Saturday night; by myself, reading, and bored out of my mind. It was back to my usual routine I guess. Now that my panic attacks were coming back and James wasn’t inviting me to parties I might as well turn back into that awkward, anti-social person.

James came home drunk that night around two in the morning. He was an honest and usually nice drunk, and I guess it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he would be annoyingly honest to me when he came home.

“I can’t believe you think you like Oli.” He said, walking into the living room where I was sitting on the couch, “It’s stupid and you should know it.”

“Shut up, James.” I instructed, “You’re drunk and being obnoxious. Go to bed or something, please.”

“Not yet, I’m not done talkin’ to you.” He replied. I rolled my eyes and watched him as he sat down on the couch next to me. “What, you think he likes you too? You should have seen him tonight all over some blonde girl. It was sort of hot to watch.”

A knot in my stomach formed and I swallowed, trying to ignore my brother. I told myself he was just trying to mess with my head. “You’re drunk James. Talk to me about this when you’re sober and won’t make things up. Go to bed.”

“Don’t believe me? Fine then, whatever you want to believe is fine.” He got off the couch and started to hobble up the stairs. He turned for a moment once he got to the top and spoke, “Just don’t be shocked when you find out I’m not lying.”

He’s drunk, he had to be lying, right?