I could hear the soft tap of my shoes on the tiled ground through the music blasting in my ears. It helped drown out the bustle of people as they tried to meet up with their friends for lunch. Just like every day at Mountain Valley Junior high, the loudest junior high school in Utah. I don’t know why we were called that because we weren't near mountains or valleys. I could feel my anxiety rising as more people surrounded me but I stood straight and acted like nothing in the world could bother me. Just like every day. Finally I burst into the courtyard and sat myself in the soft green grass next to my best friend Sheila. The anxiety did not go away; it simply loomed over my shoulder but, I could never mention that or they would think I was a freak. 

I can’t even mention the panic attacks that occurred randomly that nothing would help either but I've kept it hidden long enough and I'm fine so it must be fine. A sudden voice cut through my spiraling thoughts 

“Tay-Tay?” I look up at Sheila. She probably just asked me a question. 

“What did you say?” I try to sound like I wasn't spiraling about my life. She just frowned and gave me a worried look. Dang it, my mask is slipping. I put on my most convincing smile and Sheila turns away to another conversation and I sigh in relief. It’s not like I don’t trust them, I just don't want to be bullied like the other different  kids in the school. It’s as if you have to be a certain way here. Why can’t I just live my life without the worry of some “normal person” coming after me. Normal is such a stupid word to me. No one can be completely normal though we are expected to. I also don’t want to worry anyone. I don’t like when people give me those concerned looks it gives me more anxiety than I would like in my life. I already have more anxiety than I would like though. No, It’s better to stay quiet and normal. That’s much safer. The bell cuts through my thoughts and I rise quickly and clean up my things. I take one more breath of cool calming air before stepping back into my musty dusty school. 

The kids swarmed around me and I forgot to play my music so the noise hit me like a punch to the stomach. The lights are too bright and I can barely move my arms. My friends are lost in  the loud crowd and panic starts building. I can recognize a panic attack anywhere and I know this is a worse one. My throat tightens and my breaths become shallow and quick. I feel nauseous and the world spins. I feel my eyes start to water and all I want to do is curl on the ground and scream and cry until the panic stops but I push on and tremors rack my body. Breathing is coming harder and harder but I just have to pretend it’s fine or they will suspect something.

Finally I get to class and rush to my seat. I try to calm my breathing but my chest just tightens more and more as if there's a vice around my lungs. The class around me is a blur and the only things I can hear are my spiraling thoughts and my pounding heart. It takes all my concentration to not collapse in a sobbing mess. I don’t know how long I sat there but I suddenly feel a tap on my shoulder. I whip my head up to see the school counselor smiling down at me. Oh no they know something is up. I would have tried to mask it but I was such a mess I just let him lead me out of my class. Before I knew it I was in his comfortable office. It was full of colorful art. I look at his name plate on the desk. It read: Mr. Beckett

“So you looked like you were having some issues in class. You want to explain what happened?” I stared at him. Tell him? This stranger who seems really nice. I just stare at him, my lips feel sewn shut. He sighs and looks around before trying again but he doesn’t say what I expect him to say either. “Do you draw?” My eyes light up because I love to draw. I nod cautiously. He smiles and hands me an artwork of his. “How about we do an art trade. You can have that and now you make me an artwork.” I nod. I look down at the artwork in my hands, tears come into my eyes and the thread on my lips loosens. 

“I had a panic attack… a really bad one.” My voice is barely a whisper but the look in his eyes tells me he understands.

“Interesting. So do you have these panic attacks often?” I nod, staring at him. 

“Have you told anyone else?” I look down and shake my head in shame. “Why?” It's a simple question but it hits me like a bullet. Then everything comes spilling out.

“I was so confused and I didn’t want to get bullied or lose my friends or for people to think I’m weird.” My voice starts rising in volume as tears start falling. “And I don’t want to worry anyone cause I just want to be normal!” I look down at my hands and realize I'm shaking. Mr. Beckett hands me a tissue and gives me a warm smile. 

“I want you to know that you are not a burden and you most certainly are not a freak. Your feelings are valid and masking them is making them worse.” I stare at him in awe. “ We can start out small. Try talking to your parents or your friends. I've seen the kids you hang out with and I've met your parents. I believe that they will support you. Okay?” I nod and hug him feeling more happy and safe than I have in a while. He leads me out of his office and back to class. School is almost over but I don’t really care. I found that getting help will make you happy. It will help people understand you. It will teach you that you don’t have to stand alone. Your feelings are valid and it’s OK to ask for help.