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A panic attack takes hold, unrelenting in its grip on my mind and body. It’s as if all the fear, anxiety, and heartache have converged into a powerful force, threatening to consume me entirely.
I slide down the wall, crumpling into a heap on the floor. Hot tears stream down my face, mingling with my labored breaths. The world spins around me, the sounds of distant voices and footsteps blending together into an incomprehensible cacophony.
I try to focus on my breathing, to find solace in the rhythm, but each inhale feels strained and suffocating. My mind becomes a whirlwind of self-doubt and anguish.
Did I make the right choice?
Am I even capable of staying away from him?
We’ve tried and failed time and time again.
The weight of my emotions presses down on me, an invisible burden that seems insurmountable. Loneliness and regret consume my thoughts, fueling the spiral of panic and despair.
People pass by in the hallway, oblivious to the turmoil raging within me. Some glance my way, concern etched on their faces, but their gestures of sympathy and understanding only serve to intensify my feelings of vulnerability.
I curl into myself, wishing for an escape from the torment that has overtaken me.
Time loses all meaning as I cling to the cold, hard reality of the hallway floor.
I struggle to stand, using the wall for support, my legs wobbly and weak. With as much effort that I have in my body, I push myself up, determined to find solace and a sense of calm.
Slowly, I make my way down the hallway, my steps unsteady.
The air outside the hotel feels refreshing, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the room I left behind.
I find a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, and sink down onto a nearby bench. I take deep breaths, inhaling the cool air and exhaling the remnants of my anxiety.
Gradually, my heartbeat steadies and the racing thoughts begin to recede. In this moment of solitude, I gather my strength.
I remind myself that I made a difficult decision out of self-respect.
Though the pain lingers, I know deep down that I’ve taken the first step toward healing.
I need to learn how to choose myself instead of me choosing other people until they pick me. Which they never do, and Xavier is a testament to that.
As I sit on the bench, trying to collect myself after the overwhelming thoughts in my head took over, my phone suddenly pierces through the silence with its insistent ringtone.
The sound startles me, causing a jolt of awareness to surge through my veins, momentarily reigniting my anxiety.
My hand instinctively reaches for my pocket, fumbling to retrieve the buzzing phone. The ringtone, once a familiar melody, now feels jarring and intrusive, further disrupting the fragile calm I’ve attempted to create.
With trembling fingers, I unlock the screen and bring the phone to my ear. The name flashing on the caller ID sends more peace through me.
It’s Cleo.
“Hello.” My breath is still shaky.
On the other end of the line, a familiar voice bursts forth, brimming with excitement. “Violetta Luna, Exodus Wolf just followed me, and I want to kiss the ground you walk on!” She’s so happy.
My sadness washes away slightly at the words of the people who care about me just as much as I care about them.
My sisters will always choose me, and I’ll do the same time and time again.
Romantic relationships aren’t everything and sometimes the quest for someone to love you in the way you want to be loved takes over acknowledging the people who are truly by your side.
The guys I’ve wanted to be with might not have chosen me, but now I choose myself.
Today was just the first step.
