I can’t stop fidgeting, every part of my body is moving,my fingers continuously thumping against each other, shifting my weight back and forth between my legs, my arms switching positions every ten seconds, my heart racing in my chest. My eyes stay glued to the ground as I walk. I can’t bear to look up at what my legs were bringing me closer to. The closer I get to the door, the closer I feel to my heart jumping out of my chest, not daring to enter what lies ahead: high school.

I take solace in the thought that I won’t be alone the first day of freshmen year. I embrace it, thinking back to happier times, before the summer, when I found out I had depression. I think back to the friends I have. They would be there for me, even though I haven’t seen or heard from them all summer. It won’t matter. They’re my friends; they’ll understand. As I open the door, I take in the clean smell of the hallway, the unexpected quietness that hugs and shelters me. I sigh, grateful that I have an A.M. class to allow me to grow a little comfortable before I have to face the first day.

I walk into the band room, and my nerves all but vanish. The familiarity I feel is overwhelming, and I can’t help but laugh at myself for feeling so anxious. I walk further into the room, looking for a familiar face to sit next to. I’m excited now, to be a part of a high school band, to push myself in mastering my instrument. Also, to bond with my fellow band mates and to learn harder and more advanced music so that I can look back and be proud of my accomplishments. As I think this, I sit down next to my friend, Anna, and turn to her excitedly about her summer, eager to catch up. As I take in her expression, though, it’s not what I expect to see. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“Nothing,” she replies, but I can tell there’s obviously something off.

I’ll ask her in private, I think to myself, and I look around, taking in my new safe-place. I always think of the band room as a safe-place. It’s where my friends and I always hang out after school, where I made most of my friends, best friends even, and where I became the person I am. I can be myself in band; everyone knows the real me here.

The room is medium size, brimming with students and instruments. Everyone looks happy, reflecting what I’m feeling inside. I look at the clock and see I have just about ten minutes to talk to my friends. A gust of air leaves my lungs in a rush of excitement. I stand up and start to make my way closer to my friends, all grouped up in a...circle? As I get closer, I see that no-one has noticed me yet.

“Hey, guys,” I greet them as I come to a stop, but no-one looks up. They don’t even acknowledge my arrival. I’m flustered for a second, trying to understand what’s wrong. I shake it off and try again. “Guys!”

Tasha, my best friend, looks up, and I expect to see the familiar warm, welcoming smile but there’s nothing warm in those eyes. She give me a look of annoyance saying, “What?”

I take a step back, hurt and disbelieving. “What?” I repeat deadpan, looking for any sign of my Coca Cola friend. I look at her, then let my gaze lift and now I see the room in a different light. No one will meet my gaze, all too consumed in their new friends, friends that I thought I would be introduced to. My heart starts racing, and my earlier fears are brought back in an overwhelming wave of emotion. I look back at Tasha, but she’s already moved on; I’ve been dismissed. I watch them, not understanding what’s happening. Where are my friends? I’ve never experienced anything like this, the feeling of being truly alone and unwanted.

It feels like the walls are closing in on me, I can’t breath. I stumble backwards, just wanting to get away, the need to be alone consumes me. I rush back to my seat as the band teacher comes back in, joking around with a few students. I don’t belong in here, I think. This isn’t my safehaven anymore. I reach for my instrument with jerky movements. My mind is not able to keep up with what’s happening, but my body does. Fight or flight has kicked in, and flight is the only option I see. My mind is screaming at me to leave, I have to get out of here.
I push open the door open, trying not to collapse in the middle of the hallway. My anxiety is overtaking me. With one glance back at the closed band room door, and the sound of instruments warming up, I flee. My legs can’t take me far enough away fast enough. I don’t know where to go, but the thought of anyone seeing me have an anxiety attack in the middle of the hallway spurs my feet into action.

Somehow I make my way to the bathroom. I’m hyperventilating, my breaths shallow and shaky. I press my back up against the wall and slowly, my body sinks to the floor. My biggest fear, that I thought was unimaginable, was about to become reality: I was going to have to go through freshman year alone. The thought of that was so intimidating. Who goes through school, with no friends, and comes out okay? These thoughts keep churning in my head, making my anxiety attack last longer and longer, until I can’t remember what it’s like to feel normal.
The sound of the bell shatters my thoughts. I realize that I’m still in school, and that anyone could walk in and see me. Slowly, I get up and stand in front of the mirror. What I see in my reflection horrifies me. I look into my eyes and all I see is pain. I’m broken...and that shatters my resolve, but at the same time I feel a sense of resignation. I watch as my hand slowly lifts to my face, as I wipe away the waterfall of tears and pick up my bag. I take two deep breaths, and glance one more time at my own haunted eyes. I swing open the door and embrace the dread that is my first day of high school.