Cast
A young person suffering from severe social anxiety. He/she speaks quickly.

Scene
I grab my backpack and check everything one last time. Water, phone, first aid kit, emergency blanket, food, spare clothing, pen and paper. The basics. I take a breath.

I step outside and the sun hits me full ball in the face. My breathing quickens. It’s so bright. What if I get dehydrated? Or sunstroke? The sun is dangerous. I hurry inside and get my legionnaires hat and extra water. Okay. This will be okay.

The blaring sun hits me again but I grit my teeth and go. I make it to the street. A car goes by too close and honks me. This is stupid. Why am I doing this? My shaky hands take a Valium and I put it in a dry mouth. I need to wash it down so I sip some water but I only sip a little because I don’t want to run out.

I have to cross the road to use the side with the path so I look both ways. I look again. And again. Cars come out of frigging nowhere. There’s nothing in sight so I bolt across, and for one terrifying moment I almost stumble and my head is filled with images of me lying helpless on the road as some hoon careens around the corner and smears my guts all over Barton Avenue. This doesn’t happen but it isn’t the only road.

I stop and look both ways at every driveway as I head towards the bus shelter. It’s almost a kilometre away. The Valium hasn’t kicked in yet and I wonder how people do this every day. Aren’t they afraid? So many things can get you out here.

Someone’s approaching. They’re about two hundred metres away. I have the choice of crossing the road again or risking a confrontation. “Just say hello and keep walking.” It’s simple. She says it’s simple. One hundred and fifty metres.

I panic and walk out towards the road but a car goes by doing at least seventy and I stumble back to the path. It’s a fifty zone. Who is that crazy bastard trying to kill? My heart is vibrating and the dizziness is closing in. Before I know it the person is near me and I have to get myself together or she’ll ask me if I’m okay and god knows what will happen after that. I stretch my arms out, nice and wide like Doctor Lawrence told me. “Scared people don’t take the time to yawn.”

She passes without comment and I breathe again. My head spins for a moment, then I’m okay. Confident now, I continue down the path and after five minutes I notice I’m spending less time looking up each driveway. I feel like a daredevil.

When I’m three quarters there I realise I’m feeling relaxed, but also hazy. This is bad. I should be focused. What if something happens to me because my guard’s down?

I repeat the lyrics to my favourite song to stay on track. “Don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart. I just don’t think he’d understand.”

An agonising hour after I set off I’m at the bus shelter. There’s a man there. He’s reading a newspaper. Why are you here? Go away. Go away, you nasty man. Why do you have to catch this bus? I’m catching this bus.

I watch him from the corner of my eye and sit as far away from him as I can. He ignores me. I jump as he turns a page. He’s reading the finance bit. No one reads the finance bit. He’s pretending to read it so he can strike when I least expect it....
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