Oh, Calamity

I had a panic attack when I got home from the bar last night. I was alone this time; Jack wasn’t there. I was glad for that anyways. There’s no way I could ever tell him that this time I was upset over my feelings towards him. I’m so confused. I feel stupid for not realising what my feelings were earlier, because now that I think about it I have been feeling like this for a while. I hate this. I don’t want to be in love with Jack; it’s wrong. How can I act normally around him now?
I know now it isn’t the alcohol, but I wish it was. I need help, I can’t deal with it. Does that make me weak? Probably. I need to man up and deal with it. I can’t exactly man up when I’m in love with a guy though, can I?
I roll out of bed and immediately double over, clutching my head. I have a killer hangover and a massive pounding headache, and the afternoon sun seeping in through the curtain hurts like hell. I put on my sunglasses and head down the hall to the kitchen for an aspirin.
I’m not hungry so I skip breakfast and, when I’ve finished my aspirin, I head towards the room which I use as a place to keep my guitars and things. I live by myself in a nice two-bedroom apartment in Towson, Maryland, so I have a spare room that I can use for this. There’s an amplifier and some acoustic guitars hanging on the wall, as well as a desk with a computer and various devices for recording. There’s also a bed and a bedside table in here, which is kind of out place but handy for overnight visitors. To fit it in I had to put my electric guitar stand out in the lounge room, though.
I take my favourite, battered old acoustic guitar down from the wall, take it out to the lounge room couch and start to strum it softly, singing quietly along.
“Give me therapy, I’m a walking travesty.
“But I’m smiling at everything.
“Therapy, you were never a friend to me,
“And you can keep all your misery.”
I love this song. It’s off our most recent album, ‘Nothing Personal,’ and it’s based off the time when my anxiety attacks first started, shortly after my step-brother, Thomas, passed away. My parents put me in therapy and I hated it, even though I’d desperately needed it. I’d written a few songs related to Tom’s death but this was the only one I had the courage to play live. Lately I’ve been starting to feel like I need help again, though.
Get a grip, Alex. You’re fine. I sigh and put the guitar down to go and make myself a coffee.
After coffee and a cold shower I decide I’m feeling a bit better and it would do me some good to go and get some fresh air. I pull on my Converses and head outside for a walk, intending to just wander around Towson and clear my head.

After about half an hour of wandering around shops and convincing myself that a crush doesn't matter, I sit down on a wooden bench on in a park and bury my head in my hands. I know that this is a ridiculous thing to be so upset about, but Jack's my best friend. He'll figure out that I like him and he'll probably be weirded out by it, he'll try and avoid me. But I can't lose him. He's the only thing that keeps me sane when I'm falling apart.
That's not my main problem, however. My main issue is that I have started falling apart again. My anxiety issues are coming back and I don't know why. How can we keep the band going if I can't even go out on stage? This could ruin everything.
I'm jerked out of my thoughts by a voice right beside me. "Alex?"
"Jack!" I say with a start, hastily wiping the tears from my eyes. "Wh-what are you doing here?"
"I was just going for a walk," Jack says. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." I attempt a smile, but I can tell Jack doesn't believe me for a second.

"No, you aren't. You were crying before I sat down. Why are you trying to lie to me?" Dammit, Jack.
"It's nothing. Just trust me, okay?" Jack gives me one of his heartbreaking looks; the one that says that he knows I'm lying and I've hurt him by doing it.
"It's just that... I think my anxiety is coming back. You saw me at our last show. And I had another attack last night when I got home. Something's just... not right with me lately."
"Alex..." Jack says after a moment of thought. "I think I want you to start therapy again. I don't want you to be upset like this all the time."
"No!" I say, my heartbeat rising. "I don't want to; I can't go back into therapy, Jacky. I'm fine, I swear, it'll pass." Therapy was never a friend to me. I just know it'll make things worse.
"Alex, breathe. It's okay. See, you're starting to panic again, even now. Please, just try it. For me. You're not okay, I can tell. I'll ring up someone and book you in, and if you don't like it you can quit. Okay?”
I take a deep breath. "Fine. I'll do it for you. Just promise me you won't tell anyone?"
"Of course. Thank you, Alex." Then he grins, slipping back into his usual, joking composure. "Hey, let's go get ice cream! And then we can go back to my place and play video games if you want."
I grin back. "Sounds good, bro."