Colors (rewritten)

KRISTEN

The best thing about having amazing friends is that everytime you are with them you forget about the negative things that keep you up at night, like clinical depression and anxiety.

But sometimes not even your closest friends can keep you away from that dark hole of anxiety, especially if you can't always be with them and worst of all, you can't find your coping mechanism.

I have been looking everywhere for my journal, I literally turned my bedroom upside down and I'm frantically going through my locker and still nothing.

I woke up feeling anxious and had this overwhelming need to write about it but I couldn't find my journal and now I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Where is it, where could I have left it? Oh my God did I lose my journal, the book with all my private thoughts and very personal and intimate poems?

Oh no, what if someone found out and read it? The thought of someone reading something so private makes me nauseous.

I can't breathe, they are probably laughing at how pathetic my words sounds. The more I think about it the more I can't feel my breath.

It's happening, I'm having a panic attack and of course with my luck, it has to be in the hallways where everyone can see me!

"Kristen?" I hear someone say my name. "Hey, are you okay?" It's Tatiana and behind her is a tall boy with dark features but I don't recognize him.

"Can't breathe!" I manage to say through my heavy breathing.

"Por Dios!" She exclaims. "Okay, what should I do?" She starts to touch me but I hold up my hand to halt her, I need space to breathe.

"I think she's having a panic attack." I hear the boy say.

"I can see that!" Tatiana snaps at him. "And what are you looking at?"

I think she's referring to the people who have started to gawk at me as I have my little breakdown. But I don't care about them because I'm already fading.

"Kristen!" I pass out but thankfully  Tatiana catches before I hit the ground.

One of the downsides to being me is that my brain works unusually maniac when I'm in panic mode, so even when I'm unconscious I still have crazy anxiety. Sometimes I think I'm more anxious when I'm unconscious than when I'm awake. It's crazy, I know, but I'm no therapist so I can't exactly explain it, I just endure it.

But like everything else in life, it comes to an end and eventually I regain consciousness.

If there's anything I hate more than my attacks it's probably the aftermath of my little 'episodes'. The feelings of shame and humiliation I feel afterwards are just as, if not more, overwhelming as the actual attacks.

And right now I'm feeling very overwhelmed and so much more. The last thing I expected after my panic attack was to be sent to the guidance counselor's office who, by the way, happens to be our English teacher.

I have to admit that up until now I have never really paid much attention to him and now that he's right infront of me, I can't stop looking at him. His eyes, his hair, his soft voice and the way he's speaking to me reminds me of someone, my father.

"Miss Conte, please sit down." Mr Zukov says.

Without thinking I blurt out, "Call me Kristen!" Him calling me 'Miss Conte' doesn't sound right, my dad would never call me that. "I prefer Kristen," I add, calmer this time.

Instead of telling me it's inappropriate for him to be on first name basis with me, he just smiles warmly at me. "Okay, Kristen please sit down."

"Okay." I say as I pull out the chair opposite his.

"So how are you feeling?" He asks and from the way he's asking you would think he was some kind of a therapist.

"I'm okay, it was nothing." Well, it was not nothing but I don't think telling him that I freaked out because I lost my diary will help.

"That's good. Do you know why you are here?"

"Ummm, the nurse told me that the principal said I should come here?" It's more of a question than a statement. "Oh my God, am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong? Am I being suspended?" I'm blubbering, one of the things I do when I'm nervous. "Is it hot in here?" I start to fan myself, who knew fainting would get me in trouble.

"Hey hey," Mr Zukov grabs my hands, "Calm down and breathe slowly." His voice is so soft and kind. "Can you do that for me?"

I nod almost immediately. I can't seem to form any words right now because he's touching me, comforting me, something I haven't had from a male figure for a long time.

"You are not in any trouble." He assures me.

"Okay." I finally say.

"However, the nurse had some concerns about you and she shared with the principal."

Oh this is not good. "What concerns?"

"The cuts on your wrists and on your stomach really alarmed the principal...."

All I hear is 'cuts' and 'alarmed'. I immediately snatch my hands from his. This is way worse than I imagined. In a split second I feel like I'm back at my old school and my old friends are unsympathetically telling me that we can't be friends anymore because my tendencies scare them.

"Miss Conte?" Mr Zukov says but I'm not listening. He's just like them, judging me, thinking I'm a freak. "Kristen."

"I'm not a freak!" I yell at him before quickly remembering that this is school and he's my teacher. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I start to get up. "I didn't mean to shout but I think I should go now." I really need to get out of here, away from him and this environment. I could really use my journal right about now.

"Hey," All of a sudden he's right infront of me, stopping me from leaving his office. "You are not a freak and neither the principal nor I ever thought that."

I don't know what to say so I just stay quiet, watching him and wondering if he's being sincere or just messing with me.

"We are just going to talk, nothing else and you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, okay?" He asks and I nod. "But because you are a minor I have to ask, did you do this to yourself or is someone else hurting you?"

What do I say to that? There's no right answer. Admitting that I inflict pain on myself would be admitting that I'm a freak and denying it would be putting the blame on someone else which is so much else.

"It's me." I admit quietly.

"I thought as much." There's no judgement in his voice or any kind of criticism.

"Please don't tell anyone!" I'm almost on the verge of tears. The thought of people finding out is one of my greatest fears. I can't lose another group of friends, not again.

"I'm afraid I will have to notify your parents...."

"My mom already know!" I interrupt him. "And my dad passed away so there's no need to talk about it with anyone."

"Your father passed away?" He asks and I nod, realizing that this is the first time I have said it in a long time. "I'm so sorry sorry."

He sounds sympathetic enough and it gives me an idea. "It's part of the reason why I—you know." I can never say the words, not even in my head. "I only do it when I miss him or when I'm stressed." It's not entirely true and I know I'm being manipulative but if that will make him not tell my mother then so be it.

He sighs. "I understand and I wont talk about it."

"Oh thank you!" I immediately throw my arms around him, showing him my gratitude. "Thank you so much."

"Ummm," Now he's the one who's speechless and I realize it's because I have just hugged him. "You are welcome," he says. "But you will have to have sessions with me. I would really like to help you."

I smile against him, he really means it and he really cares. "Thank you."

I never knew that talking about it could feel like this, it's so overwhelming but in a good way, I think. My crazy mother, whom I love very much, always says everything happens for a reason and I'm starting to think that's true, if I hadn't fainted today I might have never had this moment with Mr Zukov.