It was time again for Mine and Morgan's dreaded one day a month agreement. Last months was a shopping trip at a very crowded shopping centre where I had to leave through a fire exit, causing deafening alarms to blare and three fire engines to arrive, because I had a panic attack when a shop assistant shouted at me for not coming to the counter. I was preparing myself for the cashier/customer chat.

I had never felt humiliation like it.

She called Alex to pick us up and I cried and wheezed all the way home while Morgan rubbed my back while we sat together in the back seat.

She promised to start slow with our outings again, not going anywhere too public and too panic attack prone.

Even with that promise, I was still anxious. I had no idea what she was planning. Normally, she called ahead of time so I could digest the information of where we were going and I could research it, if I liked. But today, all she did was send me a message.

'Be there at six'

That was it. That was the message. That was all the information I was provided for our Morgan and Oaklee day for February.

I both breathed a sigh of relief and panicked when the door knocked. I slowly tiptoed to the door, an anxious masking my face. I wasn't just anxious. I was terrified.

"Lets get this party started!" Morgan yelled when she set foot in my apartment.

The panic button was pressed. "What?! I'm not going to a party. No. No. Nopity nope nope nope." I shook my head furiously, eyes on the ground and backing away like one would do from a rabid dog.

"Relax Fear, it was a figure of speech." She rolled her eyes. I frowned at the nickname. I didn't appreciate being compared to the purple character from Inside Out.

From an outsiders point of view, someone who didn't know the depths of anxiety and how every action is thoroughly thought out and overthought, it was difficult to understand my disorder and my attacks. They were 'stupid' or 'strange'. I knew it was weird, I knew my anxiety was overpowering and suffocating, often making me feel tiny and like I had a plastic bag over my mouth when I was in a room full of people, my lungs collapsing and my body dying.

But that wasn't happening. Physically, I was fine, I was healthy. I could breathe, my lungs were functioning normally. But mentally? I was dying. I was suffocating and drowning and crying and screaming. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't survive when my attacks hit; I was dying. The waves of anxiety were pummelling me, dragging me under and blinding me, ripping the air from my lungs with its own bare hands. It was all in my head but when it was happening... it felt like the world was ending.

Yes, I related to the character in certain ways. His life was ruled by fear and anxiety, as well as mine, but I was so much more than skin on bones and anxiety. I hated how I let my anxiety ruled my life, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop it. It was attached to me, it was in my bones, in my DNA to be anxious and to overthink every little thing.

And sometimes, when my anxiety was so overpowering and suffocating, when I felt like my whole being was just anxiety, it was nice to say 'Morgan understands. Morgan gets why I have my panic attacks and she does all she can to help'.

But of course, there was only so much Morgan could understand. She didn't truly understand how I felt, she sympathised, she didn't empathise. And as much as I was grateful to her for understanding, for not forcing me out of my shell of solitude, I knew she couldn't truly understand the depths of my disorder and she didn't understand how being nicknamed a character with anxiety was both hurtful and offensive to me. She also wouldn't know the impact being called that had on me because of my anxiety.

Instead I said, "Sorry." and ducked my head, letting my hair hide my face like a curtain.

"I know you don't want to go out and you've been extra anxious lately so I decided we were going to have a night in. Pizza, movies, pjs and girls chat." I lifted my head at her words, warmth spreading through me.

This is what I meant by her understanding. She didn't judge or question it, she went along with my needs and wants even though she couldn't truly fabricate the reality of my disorder.

It was enough that she did that though, she didn't have to empathise with me or have anxiety to get me. It was enough that she was Morgan.

She ordered the pizza while I changed in to my cosiest grey bottoms and my fluffiest tanned jumper. These were my lazy day clothes and I would wear them with pride.

We decided on a Jurassic Park marathon after our debate on what we should watch. I wanted to watch the new Disney live actions and she wanted to watch Jurassic Park. She argued that because she had decided on our activities and bought the pizza that she should choose the movies. Apparently my argument of it's my apartment and I want to sing along to the songs weren't good enough.

I mostly agreed because the thought of our debate becoming more heated scared me and I didn't want to start the night off with a panic attack.

Loki sat beside as we ate the pizza, his head resting on my lap, asleep, not at all interested in the pizza box that sat between Morgan and I.

She paused at the start of the second film, her body shifting towards me and she threw the empty pizza box on the coffee table.

"How about we have that girl talk now?" She suggested innocently.

"Okay." I stroked Loki's head softly, leaning down gently to kiss the top of his head.

"Alex." Was all she said.

I raised my eyebrow. "Alex?"

"What's his last name?" She looked down at her nails, picking at her cuticles.

"King."

Her movements froze for a brief second before her gaze snapped up to mine. "Alexander King?" I nodded. "You've befriended Alexander King?" I nodded again. "Oh my god."

I stared at her curiously for a minute before something clicked in my mind. "Are you reacting like that because he's a billionaire and he owns King Industries and many restaurants and clubs over America?"

"No I'm reacting like this because he's my ex boyfriend." She rolls her eyes. "Of course I'm reacting like this because of who he is!"

"Well that's not believable. He's not your type." I tell her in a matter-of-fact tone.

A strange look masks her face, one of offence and curiosity. "Why isn't he my type?"

"You said you don't go for nice guys."

She sends me a blank look. "We aren't talking about my love life. We're talking about yours."

I sit taken back. "My love life? I haven't got one."

A snort escapes her. "So you're saying you and Alex are just friends?" She laughs, stopping short when she sees my confused look. "You're really just friends?"

"Why would Alex and I be anything more?" I ask quietly.

My mind had never drifted or even considered the fact that I may end up with someone one day. I was in my apartment most of the time and I couldn't talk to anyone. In the back of my mind, my future had been decided. I would grow old with dogs as my companions until I one day die and the building manager or neighbours find me dead while my dog eats my flesh.

I had never considered that I might end up marrying or dating someone. I had never needed to panic over it because it wasn't a possibility. Now that Morgan had brought it up, I didn't know if I would have a love life at some point in the future. I was only twenty five. Some people don't find anyone until their forties or fifties. Maybe I wouldn't be alone all my life, just half.

"When you're with Alex..." She started gently. "How do you feel?"

I thought for a moment. "Happy most of the time. Comfortable."

"Not anxious?" I shook my head. "Alex must be a great guy if you feel so comfortable around him... especially since... you know."

I wanted to frown at the meaning behind her words but my lips had different ideas. A smile played on my lips when I thought about him. Our walks, our night time conversations, when we spent Christmas together. I liked being around him and I liked how carefree I felt when I was with him. He had become a vital part of my life in such a short amount of time. He was my male version of Morgan. He understood and didn't judge or question when my anxiety did spike. He would hide me behind him when someone spoke to us and he would let me have as much time to myself to calm down when I felt the knot in my stomach.

I always thought I would never find another friend, one who understood me and didn't laugh at me or think me strange, and especially not a friend of the opposite sex.

"He is a great guy. A really great guy."

A small smile plays on her lips. "Good." Then her smile fades and a demanding look takes over. "How do you know who Alexander King is? You live under a rock? You never leave the apartment."

"He told me. He didn't seem that happy about it." I shake my head as I remember that day. "He said I wasn't like the other women who wanted to get him in his bed."

She scoffs. "Of course you aren't. You're so much better than them."

Confusion washes over me. "Why am I better than women who only want him in their beds? What if they're nice?"

"Honey, they might be nice but some people only care about Alex because of his money and fame. They want his money and fame. They're gold diggers. You're real and genuine. You're better and I'm glad he sees that." I open my mouth to comment, to tell her how she knows they're like that but she cuts me off. "Now shut up. Jurassic Park two is calling my name."