A Day in the Life of a Socially Anxious Teen (Part 1)

Another early morning, another sunrise, another alarm clock rings. I wake up feeling like I never even slept. I'm just perpetually tired no matter how many hours of sleep I get. I lay in bed trying to pretend I'm asleep so that I'll either miss the school bus and can't go to school, or my mom gives up on trying to get me out of bed and tells me to stay home. I have been doing this every single morning since I was five; I'm 16 now. This morning was not a lucky morning. My mom managed to make me get up and get ready.
It's now time to go to the school bus, which is one of the worst parts of my day. I tell my mom, "Mom, please, don't make me go. I'm all by myself at school. There's no one to talk to. I'm much happier just staying home with you. I'll go tomorrow, I promise!" "No, honey. You have to go to school," my mom responds. So I leave the house, and begin walking down the street to the bus stop. I can see the kids, all about a year younger than me or in my grade, watching me as I walk down the street. I feel my cheeks turn red and my heart beat begins to race. I never speak to them, I know they don't like me. I put in my ear phones and blast my music so I can pretend I'm somewhere far away. I'm almost to the bus stop now. I take out a cigarette and begin to smoke it about 10 feet away from where everyone is standing. I never go all the way to the bus stop, not until the bus gets there. It's too crowded and I don't want to risk having to make conversation. My palms are still sweaty and my hands are shaking as I think about the long day ahead of me. I only get to take about three more drags from my cigarette before the bus arrives. 'It's fine, it's fine,' I think to myself, mustering up the courage to walk to and on the bus. I toss the cigarette on the ground, stomp it out, and make my way to the dreaded yellow vehicle.
On the bus, the bus driver asks for my last name because he has to take role. I say, "Smith," in the smallest voice I possibly can. My cheeks turn red as he asks, "What, hon?" I say, just a little louder, "Smith," and he nods and I make my way to my lonely seat at the very back of the bus. Nobody sits next to me because nobody likes me. I like not having to make conversation with anyone, but I wish I had at least one friend on this bus. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard then. If only I could say hi to someone without blushing or my voice cracking. I put my hood on and my ear buds back into my ears, and sit quietly for the rest of the thirty minute ride. Every time we make a stop, I look out the window so nobody makes eye contact with me.
Eventually we make it to the dungeon of torture, otherwise known as Johnson High School. We all file off the bus, everyone in their own group of friends, and then me all by myself. I hate this part of the day, when we get to school early and everyone goes and socializes, because I have no one to talk to. I usually stand over by my first period class or I walk around the halls. I try to dodge anyone I relatively know because I know I won't be able to bring myself to say hello. I am invisible.
Once the first period bell rings, I am relieved that I don't have to look like a loner anymore, but I am now nervous for when we have to stand for the pledge of allegiance, because I know everyone will be staring at me and it'll make me sweat and turn red. When that time comes, I can't even bring myself to say the words to the pledge, so I mouth them very gently and then sit back down as fast as I can. My face is red at this point. I know everyone saw me get nervous and not even say the words to the pledge. They must think I'm so stupid, which I am. Throughout this class and the next two classes, I keep my hood up and I try to stare down at my desk most of the time so that nobody makes eye contact with me, and especially so that the teacher doesn't call on me. Once in a while, the teacher will call on me and force me to answer a question, and I have to quietly answer while my voice cracks and my cheeks turn red. That usually ruins my day for me. Don't even get me started on when I get called to write on the board. I either shake my head no until the teacher just calls on a different person, or I shakily walk up to the board and do what I'm told. By the time I make it back to my seat, though, my cheeks are red as an apple and my mouth is so dry that I can't even swallow. Why do these things scare me so much, when other kids can do them without a thought?
Lunch time comes around and I try to find my friend Sam, who usually eats with me and talks with me till it's time to go back to class. On the days that she's at school, everything feels better because I don't feel like such a loner. But, unfortunately, she skips school a lot so I'm usually on my own. Today she isn't here. I don't eat lunch. My anxiety is too high at noontime and if I eat anything, I'll throw it right up. So I go and sit in the library, if no one is in there, or I go sit in a bathroom stall and read, which I did today. I enjoy that time alone, though I know things would be better if I could bring myself to talk to someone.
After lunch, I have two more classes and they are just as bad as my morning ones. Eventually, it is time to go home and I couldn't be more relieved. I practically run to the school bus so I could get on it before anyone else does. When no one is on the school bus, I can tell the bus driver my last name loud and clear, and my voice doesn't crack and I feel happy. But when I get on the bus a little late, like today, and there are already people on it, I say my normal, "Smith," in my quiet little voice and then I make my way to the last seat in the back. I don't feel happy, I just want to get home.
At the bus stop I see Sam waiting for me. She's standing there with her long and dark brown hair, tight tank top, ripped jeans, and moccasins that are definitely a few years old because they have holes in them. She has a big smile on her face and that makes me smile, because I know when she smiles it means she's up to something. I walk off the bus stop and Sam gives me a huge hug. "Hey girl, how was your day? Sorry I wasn't there, I know you hate being alone at lunch. I felt really bad but there was no way in hell that I was going to the s**t hole today." I nod. Sam is the opposite of me. She's funny, pretty, skinny, and outgoing. She is fearless. Our conversations usually go a lot like this: she talks, and I nod or respond with 'yeah.' Unless we're drunk, or high, then we are both just as talkative. "Jake came over today," she says. Jake is our dealer. Well, Sam's dealer, but Sam usually shares whatever she gets with me so he's basically our dealer. "Yeah?" I say. She looks behind us to make sure nobody's there, then she pulls a small baggy of bright green Mary J out of her bra. "Wanna smoke?" She asks. "F**k yes," I reply. She takes her one hitter, which looks like a cigarette, out of her pocket and packs it. We use the one hitter in public because it looks like we are just passing a cigarette back and forth, and not a pipe full of marijuana. After we both take a few hits, I'm starting to feel it, and I know Sam is too. We're almost back to my house now, so I ask her if she wants to come in. "Nah girl, it's fine. I appreciate it and I would if I could, but I kinda gotta get home asap," she responds. "Why? Is everything okay?" "I guess so," she answers. Now we're in front of my house. Nobody seems to be home, so we both take one more hit each, and then Sam hugs me goodbye. I thank her for the weed, and she says 'no problem.' She knows how tough I have it, with anxiety and s**t, and she knows that bud helps me feel ten times better. She's a good friend.
I get back inside feeling pretty buzzed, go to my bathroom, and put in eye drops to take away all the redness in my eyes before my mom gets home. I also change into comfy clothes, so that I won't smell like weed, but also so that I can get comfy. I brush my teeth too, just in case my breath smells like smoke. I haven't gotten caught yet, and I'd like to keep it that way.
I lay down in my bed, feeling extremely tired all of the sudden. I close my eyes without a worry for tomorrow, but I know it's only because I'm high that I'm feeling so at ease. I drift to sleep, feeling relieved to finally be home and away from the worries of the world.

Author's Note

I know this isn't the most accurate description of a day in the life of someone with social anxiety, but this is basically how it was for me when I went to high school. Please review and comment and rate..I want to know if anyone can relate to this.