Confident. That was the one word on my mind walking into the Villa Milano minutes before the start of my boyfriend’s senior prom. I flipped my hair, almost catching my pandora ring on its tangled ends while my black lace-up heels clicked behind me. It took a lot out of me to attend events like this so naturally, I was proud of myself. I grinned as Michael intertwined his hand in mine, squeezing it lightly.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered. He reminded me of that often, as I seemed to forget it regularly. But that night was different. I felt like for once,
he might have been telling the truth. I cocked my head and leaned it against his towering shoulders as if to say “thank you.”
The trees bordering the archway swung gently in the balmy spring weather and the sunlight kissed my skin, causing beads of sweat to form on my forehead. As we approached the entrance, the sound of trickling water and a soft melody lingered in the air. Water danced around the fountain’s statue and she glanced down at me with her marble eyes. Groups of friends and dates surrounded us on every side and soon the peaceful chorus was drowned out by the hum of conversations. My body stiffened at the sight of so many people. Michael greeted his fellow classmates and I smiled politely, but uncomfortably, as they exchanged bits of small talk. My two piece dress seemed to tighten as I felt them looking me up and down, judging every part of my ensemble. I quickly sucked in and shifted around, anxiously tugging at the skirt. They continued to babble on about the after parties and midterms the following week as I studied the faces around me, looking for a familiar one. All strangers. It wasn’t my prom, or my school, or my friends. I was an outsider. That wasn’t unexpected, though.
“Let’s go!” Michael tugged at my arm and lead me through the narrow corridor and into the dining hall. The twinkling lanterns dangling from the ceiling brightly welcomed us in. The whole venue radiated elegance and truth be told, an abundance of champagne and an inevitable outbreak of drama would have completed the whole “Serena Van Der Woodsen/Upper East side” vibe I was getting. Michael pulled out a chair to our table and I gracefully plopped down and finally exhaled, hiding my rolls under the white, lace table cloth. My seat faced directly in front of the entrance and I found myself analyzing every person who walked through the door. Michael continued to gab with his friends and I filled the silence with thoughts of insecurity. I pitied myself for not being more social. Michael was a social butterfly, fluttering around the room, talking to everyone he saw. I wanted to be like that. While I knew a tiny fraction of the people he spoke to, the few people who made an effort to talk to me so willingly and without anxiety composed a ball of jealousy within me. I felt foolish, as I could hardly mutter a coherent and intelligent response back to them.
“Are you okay sweetie?” Michael asked softly interrupting my thoughts. I nodded, but I didn’t really know if I was. I was overwhelmed. He studied my face suspiciously, knowing I wasn’t fine. However, a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs laid out in front of him stole his attention and he engulfed it almost inhumanely. The intense garlic fumes immediately gave me a headache. I swirled my noodles around with my fork and the sound of it scraping against the plate seemed to echo throughout the room. My eyes wandered to the bored attendees clearly anticipating the drunken festivities to follow as my thoughts continued to consume me. Too many people. Too many people. Too many people. My head was pounding. Why am I like this? What is wrong with me? Prom is supposed to be fun. The same questions replayed in the back of my mind like a broken record. Overwhelming feelings of sadness and fear washed over me. The thought of being forced to unavoidably make a fool out of myself to strangers paralyzed me. I no longer felt confident. I felt like a dandelion in a garden of roses: insignificant and ordinary. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to catch my breath. Despite my best efforts, tears started to form at the corners of my eyes. I immediately blotted them away as my hands started tingling and my heartbeat quickened. I knew what was happening; I was having a panic attack. Why now?
“Kayla seriously what's wrong?” Michael asked while licking marinara off of his lips. I couldn't answer. Who has a panic attack at prom? I was extremely embarrassed and at a loss for words. I couldn't tell him what was happening- I saw exactly how that would play out.
“What? You're having a panic attack? Why? You don't know why? Then what are you panicking over?” He wouldn't have understood.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” I finally responded knowing full well my eyes could stream down a fountain of tears at any given moment. Oh my god, I thought. What do I do? Where do I go? I stopped myself and caught a falling tear drop with my finger tip. The crushing feeling of dread suddenly began to fade away and quickly transformed into a hurricane of emotions. No. Not today. Not now. I was done being a slave to my anxiety. I fixed the smudges of mascara under my eyes and wiped away the remainder of tear stains off of my cheeks. Michael looked at me with concern in his eyes. He grabbed my hand and kissed it softly.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I took a deep breath, exhaling every negative thought stored in my mind. Not today.
“I am now.”
Comments