𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝟖

I was mid anxiety attack when it all came up my throat.

I've always been an anxious person. You don't suffer from OCD and not have anxiety. The anxiety attack wasn't a surprise at all; it's been at bay for hours. Just, it took me being completely alone for it to surface. For the breaths not coming back to me like they had the last three times today I thought it was finally going to hit. For my heart to keep thrumming to a fast tempo song I didn't know the lyrics to.

Through all of my past attacks, I hadn't been much of a shaker. And this anxiety attack didn't change that. But what was different was that the sickness in the pit of your tummy that usually is released along with your anxiety attack, literally got released. Into the dang toilet.

This had happened to me before, but it's never been like this. It's never been quite this charged. Not when I threw up after the homecoming parade I was in back in high school. Not when I threw up after my tia Julia's funeral.

Vomiting after the parade was due to social anxiety. Due to the idea of making one wrong move and ruining it in a way that couldn't possibly be fixed. What if everyone and their mothers witnessed it? It isn't like they weren't there. Even kids from the high school on the other side of town were there.

I threw up at Julia's funeral because they had an open casket and all I could think about was when I died. If I would be lowered into the floor. Roses tossed after me and people jokingly throwing mazapanes in there just to be funny. It shook me to my core.

Maybe I was only fourteen and I knew I wasn't going to be dying anytime soon, but that didn't make it any less overwhelming.

Anyway, I'd thrown up--and considerably much more violently--this time because this wasn't a dead relative I saw once a year. This wasn't about being presented in front of have of my town. It was Dad.

Earlier, I'd been as fine as I could be. But I texted Dad to tell him I basically kidnapped "his kid" without permission. And then he called. Not only three words in, and I hung up on the guy, unable to catch my breath.

All I could and can still think about as I stand in front of Noah like an idiot is: how could someone who is supposed to love me put me in a situation like this?

I always figured that you love someone, and you stay. You prove that love and watch it persevere. Watch it blossom into something new every now and then, but that just wasn't us. No matter how many times I spoke to the sky, begging God to put Daddy on a different path, nothing had changed.

There's the trust I have in whoever watches over me from above the clouds, but then there's something more. Something as simple as selfishness and desperation. I'm human and it's natural to desire more. To not always be patient enough for the path to be paved. One I see or one that I don't.

As I stand here, I don't want to wait. Because I know I deserve more.

I don't know if Dad is the way he is because it's a crucial part in mine and Mason's story, but I despise it entirely.