I've written about 4 panic attacks I've had: my cousin's engagement, a Maths lesson, a French lesson where I had to ask for the work to catch up on, and Christmas Day when I wasn't allowed to wear a skirt. One of my triggers is when people draw over the veins on their hand.
The lights are flashing, burning my eyes. My arms prickle underneath the heavy dress, and I blink back tears. I can't ruin the party. But everyone is Too Loud, and I wish they'd stop chattering and gossiping and singing and laughing and the photographer is gripping my arm too tightly, his nails biting into soft flesh as he shoves me into the frame. My auntie tells me to smile. It's hard to smile when
I
Want
To
Scream.
We are in class, and she has drawn on her veins. I feel sick. They stick out of her skin and send me rocking in my chair and gripping the desk as a fuzzy wave of nausea chokes me. I can't sit still. The other students are Too Loud and I wish I could tape their mouths shut and just have one second, one second to breathe.
I
Want
To
Breathe.
I missed last French lesson, and I know I have to ask for the work to catch up on, but I can't raise my hand. Fear crawls across my arms and makes them heavy. He will look at me, they will all look at me and I can't handle their eyes. Now it's too late, too late, but my friend raises her hand and asks for the sheets for me. It's too late, Too Loud.
"Have you lost your voice?" "This is awkward." It was too late. I should've just asked. And now
I
Want
To
Be
Invisible.
I have to take off my floaty skirt. "It's not appropriate for family gatherings" and this is Christmas Day. And I don't want to change, but shouting is worse, so I put on the jeans. And I look in the mirror and it's like a movie how I slide to the floor. I am shaking, and my breathing is too fast, too slow, Too Loud, and my thighs are too big and why can't I just wear the floaty skirt?
It's too much.
I
Want
To
Cry.
So I cry.
The lights are flashing, burning my eyes. My arms prickle underneath the heavy dress, and I blink back tears. I can't ruin the party. But everyone is Too Loud, and I wish they'd stop chattering and gossiping and singing and laughing and the photographer is gripping my arm too tightly, his nails biting into soft flesh as he shoves me into the frame. My auntie tells me to smile. It's hard to smile when
I
Want
To
Scream.
We are in class, and she has drawn on her veins. I feel sick. They stick out of her skin and send me rocking in my chair and gripping the desk as a fuzzy wave of nausea chokes me. I can't sit still. The other students are Too Loud and I wish I could tape their mouths shut and just have one second, one second to breathe.
I
Want
To
Breathe.
I missed last French lesson, and I know I have to ask for the work to catch up on, but I can't raise my hand. Fear crawls across my arms and makes them heavy. He will look at me, they will all look at me and I can't handle their eyes. Now it's too late, too late, but my friend raises her hand and asks for the sheets for me. It's too late, Too Loud.
"Have you lost your voice?" "This is awkward." It was too late. I should've just asked. And now
I
Want
To
Be
Invisible.
I have to take off my floaty skirt. "It's not appropriate for family gatherings" and this is Christmas Day. And I don't want to change, but shouting is worse, so I put on the jeans. And I look in the mirror and it's like a movie how I slide to the floor. I am shaking, and my breathing is too fast, too slow, Too Loud, and my thighs are too big and why can't I just wear the floaty skirt?
It's too much.
I
Want
To
Cry.
So I cry.
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