Chapter Three

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School life: Sucks.

Real life: Sucks, except it sucks a bit more.

Besides Annabel's Hill, my favourite place to hang out is my room. It's like my own little sanctuary. I have everything I could ever want in there, and best of all, I can be invisible.

Invisibility isn't my main goal in life. I know it's probably strange to even want to be invisible. I mean, it's not like I want to be ignored, because I don't. I want to be outgoing and confident, but I'm not sure how to do that.

And part of that is because when I turned 14, I got diagnosed with social anxiety. I'm currently 16, so I've been living with this for about two years now.

Social anxiety, which is also known as social phobia, is an anxiety disorder in which a person has an excessive and unreasonable fear of social situations.

In some cases, some people, like myself, are afraid that we will make mistakes, or be humiliated in front of others. Except the thing is, I know this fear is unnecessary, but I can't seem to overcome it.

I used to be great at talking to people and communicating with them, but when high school started, something about it caused me to freak out.

I couldn't talk to anyone.

I couldn't say anything, because I was afraid to be judged.

I wasn't able to talk at all and it was terrible.

Even though my anxiety is getting better, it probably doesn't seem like it to anyone else. I am able to handle things a lot better than I used to.

I can have conversations and make friends, only everyone just chooses not to talk to me.
It's not like it bothers me or anything, I don't like any of the kids at school. They're all way too judgmental, and the last thing I'd ever want to do is hang out with them.

So, I chose to be invisible.

Not because of my anxiety, but because I wanted to.

When I'm invisible, I don't have to be anyone.

I don't have to live up to my expectations.

I can be who I want to be.

And one of the places I can do that, is my room. My room is perfect. The walls are sky blue, and some of them you can't even see because they're covered in bookshelves.

(I actually need some more put in, because my book overflow is getting to the point where I can't find my desk. Literally, I can't find my desk. It's sad.)

The walls are littered with photos of different things; memories with old friends, family photos, and random photography; my brother takes the photos and gives it to me as a gifts for various occasions.

I stare at the family portraits; I don't look at them often. I get depressed when I look at our family. It's like someone is constantly stabbing me in my chest, except the wound is invisible to others.

My mother and my father died two years ago in a car accident. All I have left is my older brother Andy.

He'll be 22 in November. The crash took a toll on the both of us; he stopped his sports, and I stopped my music. I used to play piano, and sometimes I'd sing with my mom, only after the accident, it was too hard.

They were driving late at night, and it was raining. The road was slippery at the time. The tires skidded and my mom lost control of the wheel. The car flipped; killing them both instantly.

-

I tear my eyes away from the photos; no need to put myself through more pain. Maybe one day I can look at them and not feel like bursting into a puddle of tears.

I grab my book and walk over to Andy's room. I twist the doorknob but it doesn't budge.

He locked it. Again.

So naturally, I pick the lock. I swing the door open and make sure it slams against the wall.

He nearly jumps out of his seat. "Oh my god!" After regaining some of his wits he adds, "You could have at least knocked!"

I lean against the door-frame. "Well yeah, but knocking is no fun. What were you doing anyways?"

"I was doing homework, but then you scared the living day lights out of me!"

"Oh calm down, you'll get over it." I walk over to him and quietly sit on the edge of the bed. He doesn't say anything, he just sits there and stares at his papers. Andy's been trying to catch up in all his classes, since his grades have dropped tremendously since he started having a social life. Used to be a straight-A student, but now he's more of a C student.

After a few moments of awkward silence, he murmurs, "Did you hear about the play?"

Wasn't expecting that. "What play?"

"I'm not entirely sure what it's about, but I think you should try out for it. The theatre might be good for you, you can meet new friends. And who knows, you might even like it."

I chuckle. "Me. In a play. You do know this goes against everything I want to be, right?"

"You can't be invisible forever, Anne," His voice is barely audible, "You have to come out of your shell at one point."

I glance at the floor, "I know I have to at one point but.... what if I'm not ready yet?"

"Sometimes you don't have to be ready. Sometimes you just have to forget about everything else and jump right in."

I debate the answer in my head. Am I ready for this? No.

Can I do this? Probably not.

I'm fine making conversations with people but, trying out for a play? That's just too much for me to handle. Plus, if I ever did get the part, how would I be able to go up on the stage and preform in front of so many people?

Is a play what I really need?

Can I actually do theatre?

These questions float around in my head as I try to sleep later that night. Can I do this? I know I used to be quite a performer but now, I feel like the total opposite.

I check the clock. The green numbers stare back at me; 3:42AM.

I debate whether or not to call Johnathan and get his input on theatre. Normally he would be up, except some nights he hits the sack early. I hesitate. Is tonight one of those nights?

Screw it, I pick up the phone and dial his number.

Ring ring.. ring ring...

There's a click on the other end. "Hello?" Yep, he's awake.

I whisper so I don't wake up Andy in the next room. "Hey, I was wondering if you could help me with something?"

"What's going on?"

"I'm going to join theatre. I mean, I've been considering it. Andy told me about it today and honestly it doesn't sound like such a bad idea."

I hear him sigh on the other end, "But Annabel, what if you get an attack on stage? I don't want you to put yourself in a situation you can't handle."

"I know, I haven't really thought of what I'll do if that happens."

"I think it can help you but, I don't want you to be alone with a ton of strangers," he pauses for a second, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Again, this is why I'm asking you. I need your input on all of this."

"I'd love for you to do it. I really would. I'd say go for it, but take it easy. Start off with something small, like working backstage. Then maybe next year you can try doing a main role."

"So is that a yes?"

"I think so."

I smile a little. "Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow alright?"

"Goodnight Anne, see you tomorrow."

The phone clicks off, leaving me surrounded in silence. I lay down and pull the sheets to my chest.

I think I might actually do this.

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