I check my reflection on the mirror of the entry hall and I barely recognize the girl on the other side. I'm wearing a short tight leather dress with high-heel ankle boots, my long black hair is up in a sleek ponytail making my cheekbones pop up, I'm wearing heavy black eye make up and a bold red lip. The girl on the mirror is confident and sure of herself, someone you would expect to stand her ground. I take one last breath and open the outside door.
There's barely anyone on the street, I didn't expect it to, it's a small quiet street, so I'll be good for some time. I avoid getting into crowded streets for as long as I can, but there's a point when I can't delay it anymore; I have to set foot on the main street. The street is crowded, people are walking up and down the street, alone, in groups, some are running, some are just strolling, there are also some groups that have stopped to look at something. I have to walk around dodging them, my eyes set on the floor, pretending that no one else is around. But they're close, too close. I can feel the panic creeping inside my mind. I start shivering, cold sweat tickling down my spine, I'm holding back tears as I fight against my body's instinct to wrap my arms around my chest. I can feel stares, people judging me for my outfit, guys ogling me, but in my mind they are only threats.
I walk faster, if I can get to the metro it may get better, I may be able to sit down and forget about the world. The metro is even more crowded than the street, even if I never thought that was possible. I came seeking release and I only find more piercing looks, I start regretting my outfit choices, and even the decision of actually getting out of home. I find a free seat and close my eyes looking for some inner peace, however the person next to me shifts and I can feel the fabric of their shirt against the bare skin of my foreamrs, it makes me want to cry and scream of fear. I feel trapped, people are too close to me and I don't have room to breathe. I still have two more stops to go. I cross my arms and hold my elbows creating some space for myself where no one else can get in. I can make it. One more stop. The speakers announce my stop and I finally take my eyes off my shoes, an old lady sitting in front of me looks at me disapprovingly, or so I think, a young man, almost a boy, makes a lewdy comment as I walk past him. I walk faster as my breath grows swallow, I can't have a panic attack on the metro, I won't have it.
As I emerge back on the street I am completely paranoid, every shadow is someone hiding from me, every person who walks the street is trying to chase me. I'm scared of everything and everyone. I make wrong turns because I think someone is following me, even if there's no one, and I get to the restaurant with time to spare and on the verge of tears. My friends are running late, as usual, and Istart thinking how they actually don't really want to see me, how they barely tolerate me, when they arrive, five minutes later, I'm already on the verge of fleeing back home to avoid being a nuisance. They ask me how I am and I lie and say that I'm doing perfectly. Some compliment me on my outfit and I just laugh it off saying I felt fancy. We sit on the table and everyone starts talking about their weeks. I sit and listen, or try to, overwhelmed with the amount of noise there is. I don't speak at all and no one asks me anything. I feel awkward and overwhelmed. And scared, always scared. No one seems to see how scared I am, why would they, I told them I was okay.
I can't take it anymore and I excuse myself, saying I need to go to the restroom. It is a small modern restroom, with black tiles everywhere. I lock myself inside it and sit on the toilet. I wonder if my friends will even notice my absence or if they wilk take profit of it to say all the horrible things I probably deserve to be said of me. Holding myself close I start crying, tears smudging my make-up. I'm no longer me, there's only fear.
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