Drowning In Sorrow

What Is This Feeling?

My back sore from sitting in the car seat for so long.
My eyes heavy, like anchors has been attached to my eyelashes.
The wind brushing against my face
Yet, everything felt strangley comforting.
My dad had I collectivley decided to travel to somewhere special.
Somewhere deserted.
Quiet.
With my thoughts.
God, why did I do this.
I'm so stupid.
For a while now I've been dealing with anxiety disorder. With that comes a lot of guilt and worry.
So coming to a forest in the middle of nowhere probably wasn't the best idea.
But there was something causing it, I knew what it was. But did I really want to face the truth.
Honestly, no.

"Hey dad?" I mumbled as to not alarm him.
"Yes?" He said calmly looking up from his book.
"There's something I've been wanting to tell you, but I've been to nervous to tell y-"
His phone rang.
His fucking phone rang.
Of all times why now.
"Hold on hon" He mouthed as he walked behind a tree
"Hey! What's up?" My thoughts drowned out his conversation.
My mind was blank.
I walked back to the tent.
Reminising in my thoughts, tears strewn about my face.
Salty tears drip into my mouth, feeling nothing. Empty.
I was finally going to tell him.
Unzipping the tent I felt a gush of cool forest air hit my face.
A refreshing change from my dads' cold energy.

I walked down the hill close to our campsite. Seeing all the restaurant lights illuminating the pathway.

"At least we chose somewhere where there's something to fucking eat."

I walked into a small cottage like cafe. Aged. Not deterorating, but, old.
A kind old lady greeted me.

"Hello dear, please take a seat right here." She said, her breath smelling of Worthers carmel drops.

I sat down next to the bay window. The flowers behind the cafe, so peaceful. Not a care in the world. From roses to hydrangias. A diverse set of flowers.
I finally evert my eyes from the goregeous scene before me to look at the coffee stained menu. A large variety of many. From black coffee to German pancakes. Overwhelmed by the abundance of options I decided on the traditional American breakfast.
Eggs, Toast, and Sausage.
The old lady limps over to my table slowly but steadily.

"Hello dear, what would you like on this fine evening?" She said, holding up her pen and paper. Hands shaking.

"Um, I will have the Traditional breakfast with a glass of water" I shakily said.

"Coming right up!" The old lady said, her southern accent stronger than ever.

I hand her my menu, glad the interaction was over. I turn my head to the left to see someone walking into the cafe. My heart flutters. All the blood rushes to my head. I can't describe it. This feeling, what is it?