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Tw: Anxiety attack

It's not a good day. 

I can feel it from the moment I wake up; that weird sinking feeling in my stomach, a shaky sense of something isn't right that I can't place because, objectively, everything is fine. I'm in my room and there's sunlight streaming in and I can hear my family talking downstairs and it's a Friday like every other. There's no need for my body to feel like this, but it does.

It gets worse when I walk into the hallway and find abuela putting up another cross next to my door.

It gets worse when Aaron texts that he can't hang out today because he's visiting his aunt all day.

It gets worse when I get an email from my college board with all the books I need to buy for this semester.

And then, when it's starting to get dark outside, it becomes the fucking worst. As the house gets quiet and the light fades, it's just me and my thoughts. They're rolling around my head like a handful of marbles, always in motion without a direction, sometimes crashing together with a dissonant clink that feels like it's rattling my entire skull.

The worst thing is that I've tried everything I know to make it stop. I went running for an hour. I did the breathing exercise my therapist taught me. I took my meds. I listened to the calm playlist Aaron made for me. I did everything, but now it's eleven pm and I'm lying on my bed, nauseous and breathing shakily into the silence of my room, and I still feel like the weight of the entire world is pressing down on my chest.

I want to climb out of my body, or at least get rid of my stupid fucking brain. Instead, all I can do is get up from my bed and pace around the room, biting at my nails even though I can hear my mom telling me not to in the back of my head. It's only on my third pass around the room that my eyes land on the sheet of paper on my desk.

It's the thought log Melissa gave me in our last session. On the paper is a table with two columns. The one on the left says Negative though/Fear, the one on the right Evidence against the thought/fear.

I blink down at them, trying to take a deep breath and get enough oxygen into my crumpled lungs to think. Then, I rummage through the chaos on my desk until I find a pencil and start writing.

I'm scared of going to college. Everyone else is looking forward to it, but I'm not. I hate the town as much as they do, but I don't want to be away from my family and Aaron. I'm scared that I won't make any friends there. I never had to make any after I met Aaron- what if I just lost the ability to do that? What if everyone thinks I'm weird? What if they're all like the White Teeth Teens? 

And what if I figure out that journalism isn't the right thing for me and I drop out? Mom would be so disappointed. Dad would kill me.

I don't want to be worse than Elena at everything.

In a few weeks, I'll be so far away from home. I'll have to go to the pharmacy by myself, find a new doctor, find a way to pick up my fucking meds without hyperventilating. I don't think I can do it. I don't think I can do it.

I'm not ready to leave. I'm not ready to grow up. I feel like I wasted my teen years. This is supposed to be the best time of my life, but it feels like I spent all of it at the doctor's office and stressing about schoolwork and feeling lonely in my bedroom while everyone else is making memories that they'll tell their kids about. I want to feel infinite like in the movies, but I just feel like I've been reliving the same day for years and then suddenly high school was over and now I'm here and don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do with myself.