Quarantined together | c.c & s.m

39

Camila's POV
The next day I woke up before Shawn. Something was wrong... I could sense it... and the first mistake I made was picking up my phone and checking my social medias. As soon as I opened Twitter, pictures from my basketball stories were all over the Timeline. Why? I didn't do anything wrong, right? But then again... apparently I just need to breathe to make my first mistake. I saw one post, people saying how ugly I look in that skirt.... how fat my legs look, my belly fat you could see due my shirt cropped shirt, how my hair looks weird... everything was wrong with me in that stories.... and when I looked longer, I could see everything they could see... every mistake and flaw in myself.... everything. I quietly got out of bed, walking to my small bathroom and locking the door behind me. The first thing I did when the door was locked was looking at myself in the mirror... I saw.... everything people say about me online 'fat', 'ugly', 'attention seeker', 'not worthy of love', ' not good enough'. And it was true... everything is... at least in this moment.

A quiet sob escaped my lips, as I clutched my hands to the counter, closing my eyes and throwing my head back... feeling pain, pain on the inside. How could I ever thing I would be enough? Tears were now freely falling from my eyes, dropping down onto my shirt. I tried to keep my sobs quiet so Shawn wouldn't wake up. I kept crying, feeling weaker by the second and decided to sit down on the floor in front of the door, legs pulled up to my chest. I leaned my head back on the door as I felt the sobs building up in my throat... and my breathing quickening. Here I found myself... in the same position I had been countless times before when I used to be in the band... or when I used to get hate because I left the group... ore after the countless times and arguments with Matthew. It's always the same... will it ever change? Right now it doesn't feel like it.

I was taking heavy breaths, my chest tightening and my vision blurry... again. I buried my face in my arms to quieten the sobs so Shawn wouldn't wake up. He does not need to know about this. Ever. My body was slightly trembling from the sobs and loss of air and I knew why. I need my medication. I tried standing up, immediately steadying myself on the counter before ripping open the drawer where my medication usually is. Only this time, it wasn't. Shit... I forgot I had taken them down two days ago so my mom could get me new ones... shit, shit, shit.... what am I supposed to do now? When I don't take them.... things get worse for me.... I withdraw myself....I will probably get worse panic attacks throughout the day... I might even fall back into a depression if I don't take them soon... but that's the worst case scenario. But still. You never know. But I was still trembling, my hands firmly grasping on the counter to stop from falling over. I can't go out... I can't even calk my mom to help me. Eventually it will get better if I just wait. So I sat back down on the floor, my knees again up to my chest. My breathing was gettin pretty bad again... and my chest hurt so, so bad that I let out another sob, my hand immediately clutching my mouth to stop the sound. My face was completely wet, full of tears.
After a few more minutes of trying to calm down, without success, my hands wandered up to my hair, starting to pull it... a bad habit I had. I switched between pulling my hair and digging my fingernails into my palms until they bled. Please let this be over soon....

Half an hour later I was still rocking back an forth, sitting on the floor and digging my nails into my scalp and palms... My palms had small cuts everywhere... up to my wrist. My head was hurting so bad that I couldn't even think straight... my vision blurry, my chest still hurting.... I needed water... but I was too weak to even stand up. I was slumped against the counter, still sobbing quietly. Hw did this trigger me so much? Why am I like this? Hate always getting to me... but this bad? I was feeling so lightheaded and dehydrated, my throat dry. My whole body was hurting. No. I need Shawn. "s-s.... sh- Shawn..." I tried... but it only came out as a weak whimper, so I tried again. This time I tried knocking on the door "S-Shaw...Shawn..." I need him... "P-Please...." I cried, sobbing quietly, feeling like I was about to pass out... I was extremely tired and exhausted from crying and trying to get my breathing under control. When I didn't hear anything from the other side, signaling that Shawn hadn't heard me, I stretched out my legs defeated. I was probably gonna pass out here on the floor...

I let another loud sob escape my lips as I firmly pressed my nails into my palms, causing more drops of blood dripping down my hand. I was feeling extremely cold... probably because I was sitting on the cold tile floor with only some shorts and a shirt. I hate having anxiety disorders... and I hate even more that I thought I was better when I reality everything was still the same as it was when I first left the group. Horrible. In this exact moment I really just wish I could be... dead. Even though I know I have so much to live for.. but it's just the situation causing me to think like that... I know it. It has to be. Camila, don't wish you were dead, never. I thought to myself. I closed my eyes again, the last thing I saw being my bloody palms with a blurry vision before completely passing out.

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Oh Camila... poor baby. Did you ever have an anxiety attack?

Do you take medication for anything?