March 11th, 2003. Thereís a pit in my stomach. I walk into my parents room shaking all over. Iím going to throw up, I say. I tell them Iím sick. I donít know how else to describe it at that age. They tell me to take a Melatonin and try to get some sleep. I canít say I blame them, because this happens every night.
In a few years, Iíll learn that this feeling has a name. Anxiety. Iíll have massive panic attacks. Iíll find myself sitting on the steps of a subway entrance crying hysterically while people walk by and donít say a word because theyíre used to seeing crazy people like me. Iíll pick up everything I can get my hands on in the kitchen and throw it as hard as I can, hoping for some relief that never comes. Iíll start drinking what the average person would call way too...[read more]