I can remember my first panic attack. It's been my only one so far, but I feel like it won't be my last.
I'm 16 years old, and this happened about 5 or 6 months ago. I am only dwelling on this because I feel as shitty now as I did when this went down in September or October. Whatever.
I had just taken a shower. I wasn't, y'know ecstatic, but I wasn't feeling down. I was comfortable. I crossed from the bathroom, past the stairs, aiming for my bedroom, not much on my mind. Then I heard my mother's call. She was downstairs on the computer, like she always is. An avid Facebook addict, there is little more she does. That's fine though.
I trampled down the stairs, overcoming the irritability of the interruption. She had a Youtube video set up for me. It showed kids getting into car accidents and their mothers having to identify them at the morgue. I dunno why but suddenly my stomach got all twisted up and I sprinted back up the stairs, still in my bathrobe. My mother was calling after me, confused as to why I wasn't sticking around to finish this cheery little flick. I ended up in the closest room to the stairs: the bathroom. It's always the bathroom.
I just collapsed onto the tile floor. It was cold under my cheek, and I could feel the lines between the tiles pressing into my face, leaving their prints there so I would have to remember this gut feeling for the rest of my life. I remember my chest heaving, and wanting to cry but not being able to.
I just sat there for what felt like a really long time, but it was probably only about 10-15 minutes. I don't know what it was... maybe the possibility of losing the ones I love, or maybe just the sympathy I felt for the mothers on the screen... whatever it was it's stuck with me. I guess it did its job.
