It doesn't come all at once.
It starts off barely noticeable, other people can't see it, but you can definitely feel it.
A dull sense of fear somewhere in the back of your brain. You get worried that something might go wrong, but you try and convince yourself that it's nothing that needs attention right this minute.
After that is when you start to get jumpy. You flinch at the slightest touch, but play it off as nothing because you don't want other people to know what's really going on.
But people start to notice anyway.
You notice that people are watching you, as if you're a time bomb that's inevitably going to explode.
That's when you feel the shakiness. It's in your hands, your knees, your chest, everywhere. You can't write because you can't stop trembling and dropping the pen. People notice that too.
Now you can't concentrate because of all these people staring at you, anticipating the worst. You feel restless, fidgety, constantly tapping your foot or bouncing your knee or clicking your pen.
You tell yourself that it's nothing, that you just need to get someplace where you can get a grip without the whole world watching you. But the fact that you can't catch your breath tells you otherwise, and the pounding headache doesn't do you much good either.
You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.
That's when it hits you. Like a brick wall. In the middle of the hallway. You duck into an empty classroom and shut the door.
That sense of a constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen finally gets to you and you have no choice but to let it in, let it take over.
Your heart is racing at an unhealthy rate and it feels like it could burst out of your chest. Your breathing is rapid and shallow. You're unable to take a full breath without choking. You're hyperventilating and there's nothing you can do.
That's the worst part, that feeling of helplessness and definite failure. You can't do this alone, you need someone, anyone to help you find your way through this.
Now you literally can't breathe, because the muscles in your chest are so tensed up that they won't allow any oxygen in.
The tears that brimmed your eyes before now stream down your cheeks, and you can taste the salt.
You try and remember what they told you, to try and slow your breathing, focus on steadying your breath. None of that is working now because you don't have someone coaching you through it, it's just you and this hell you're going through.
You're coughing, choking on your own breath. Taking in short, gasp-like breaths and not letting nearly enough back out.
Your vision starts to get clouded and you feel dizzy. Your eyes feel heavy as you try desperately not to black out… again.
That's when they find you. That one classmate who happened to walk into the wrong room kneels down with you, ready to fight for you.
They coach you through the anxiety until you can begin to breathe relatively normally again. They sit with you and hold your hand and tell you everything is going to be okay and rub circles on your back and tell you to shut your eyes and try to relax because the worst is over. These people save your life in more than one way.
They are your superhero. Lydia is my superhero.
