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Panic Attack 3 of 3

September 5, 2016

I forced myself to get dressed, fix my hair and put on some make-up. The show wasn’t starting until 10.

I’ll just pretend to be someone else. I told myself. That cool chic who shows up by herself sometimes. Everyone wants to know her, to be her, but you know, she’s so cool no one knows how to talk to her. 

I laughed out loud. I walked up to Artmosphere and Roger, the musician that facebook invited me along with hundreds of others I’m sure, was approaching the bouncer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing an instrument,” I asked him.

“Not until 11,” he said.


“Yeah, Blaze is playing first.”

I paid my seven bucks and walked in. It was dead. I got a beer and went outside to sit in a corner by myself. I looked up at the sky. There’s a billboard right above the patio, hidden by trees and trellises. I like looking at the scaffolding just under the sign. It makes me feel like I’m in a big city. Like this is cool dive tucked away deep inside an urban scene.

But it’s not.

To my right was a group of happy, social people, having fun, laughing, drinking beers.

This is always how it is, I thought. This is me. In the corner, being unsocial and unapproachable. Both craving and disdaining human contact. It was me in kindergarten, it was me in high school and its me now. 

I could hear the music from the Blue Moon across the street. I finished my beer and went there to kill time until my obligatory listening of my “friend’s” band was necessary. I did the same thing there, sat in my corner and watched people.

I saw Black Michael on the bench next to the dance floor. I hopped off and went to say hi. We danced. It was awful. I forgot how to follow him. I couldn’t find my footing. I thought about all the times he and I used to dance all night long. We were good together. It was fun. Now, I didn’t know how anymore.

I went back to Artmosphere just in time to watch the bands change places. This weird Indian guy I used to have a huge crush on was right in front of me. When he realized I was there, he turned around with a cursory hi and turned back. Michelle…..I don’t know how to even describe Michelle….one of those people I thought was so cool and polished and beautiful when I met her….Michelle was sitting at the bar wearing her uniform. A goddamn vintage floral, strappy dress and fucking cowboy boots. My God! Stop with the dresses and the cowboy boots. We get it! Her posture was slumped and she was using a toothpick to clean her nails in between hugs from friends. Harold, the eternal creepy bachelor was swinging around some unsuspecting 20-something. I moved to a booth so I could actually see the band.

What the fuck am I doing here? I thought.

I got up and walked home, crying.

The depression monster had been knocking on the door of my mind and it was in now. I tried to keep in out but it busted through and it had full control. By the time I got home, my thoughts were in full bullshit mode.

I didn’t want to be alive. It was too fucking hard. I experienced a full blown anxiety attack at about 1am.

The next morning, it was still there. I dodged calls and texts from Liz. She wanted to come over. I didn’t want to hear the words that might come out of my mouth.

I needed to do some freelance work, but I decided to fuck it and try to heal myself. I made coffee. I watched stupid videos on facebook about what a moron Donald Trump is. I wrote. I pretended that I wasn’t crushingly disappointed that I hadn’t heard from Ren Man, still (It’s been a full 4 days now.) I did some yoga. That’s right, I put a fucking yoga video on my laptop and did some actual yoga. I took a bath and decided I might start a painting. I’m going to go for a walk later and cry because my mind will be free to wonder why the FUCK he hasn’t contacted me and what the FUCK is wrong with stupid men, who reel you in just to fuck with you.

I’ll fight the good fight and live to attempt to be happy another day.

‘Cause that’s how I roll.



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  1. katiereablog permalink

    I am so glad I came across this post. It is definitely something that I can relate to. Thank you for sharing it with us. I am following you so that I can read more.

    • Marie permalink

      Cool beans. I’m glad you found it relatable.

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