With each passing second, the irritating voices seem to get louder and more deafening around him. His head begins to pound, and he can feel his already delicate control waning steadily towards some form of imminent, yet unknown, destruction. When a thick, billowing haze of fog enters his mind and begins to muddle his brain and cloud his better judgment, he is absolutely certain he has lost his faculties.
What is happening? Why do I feel this way?
He glances around nervously in order to properly assess his surroundings. Two women are seated to his right, and a man is seated to his left. He studies them closely to determine what they may be thinking, but at that moment, the woman right next to him sees him studying her and laughs.
A sickening, shrill laugh that chills him to his very bones.
He quickly turns his face away, and sees that the man seated to his left is laughing as well. In a desperate attempt to find solace, Mr. Potter begins to fidget furiously and gives his hand a little squeeze to give him some much-needed reassurance.
Take a deep breath and calm down. Nothing’s happening. Just a few more minutes to go, and then I can leave, he thinks to himself.
Nonetheless, beads of sweat trickle down his temple, and his heart beats furiously in his chest at the horror of his current situation. His palms feel damp and hot to the touch, and his body shakes as though it has undergone great exertion, when in reality, he has been seated the entire time.
I can do this, he reassures himself yet again, wanting desperately to believe his own delusional words of encouragement.
Suddenly, Mr. Potter is dragged horribly back to the present as the school’s female principal introduces him, in front of a large assembly of students, as the new 4th grade teacher of Shadyside Elementary.
Oh, no! It’s time. My very first speech to an entire colony of students who probably want to see me make a fool of myself by falling flat on my face as I get up to take that mike. I cannot go through with this. I cannot embarrass myself like this.
Mr. Potter glances around him helplessly, searching for a place to hide, any place at all, but before he gets a chance to escape, he notices that all noise and laughter has ceased. The faculty members seated next to him and the students seated below the stage are all staring at him with expectant expressions on their faces, and he realizes he is too late.
Look at my new colleagues. They think I don’t know that they were laughing at me just five minutes ago. They’re probably waiting for me to do something stupid, too. I have to get out of here. They cannot see me like this.
Mr. Potter scrambles out of his seat and shouts at the top of his lungs. As his fellow colleagues surround him and he hears some kids gasp and others bark with laughter at his distress, he sees the men in white approach him and haul him away inside the back of their ambulance, and he faintly remembers, amongst his weak protests, that he had forgotten to take his anti-anxiety and anti-psychotic medication that morning.
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Neha Patel is a college student who suffers from a chronic mental illness, just like Mr. Potter. She hopes this story will bring awareness to the field of mental health and help improve treatment options.
