My lungs burned but I didn't stop running. It was the only thing I knew how to do.
I ran from my problems, my friends, family, anyone who wanted to care, anyone who tried to pry.
My body ached, it screamed for me to stop, but I pushed away those thoughts. I ran, and ran, and ran.
Until I couldn't. I slammed my fist into a wall. The pain spread through my hand but I didn't scream.
I barely felt it.
So many thoughts were swirling in my head, a never ending viscous cycle of destruction.
I slid to the floor, shaking, and feeling an anxiety attack wash over me. Sometimes it was hard for me to know what was happening, but I'd learned over the years the symptoms that lead up to one. And I was displaying them all like Pokémon cards in a glossy pouch.
I kept gasping for air that wasn't coming into my lungs, my limbs feeling paralyzed and weak, my head aching and everything looking too bright.
"Grace!" I heard someone's voice, distant but loud.
"Hey, stay with me, alright? Calm down. Breathe slowly. Here." Someone took my hand to still it's shaking. "You're going to be okay."
That was the last thing I registered before my thoughts swirled into black.