I suffer from social anxiety and PTSD.  I've been to the counsellor's office many times, but none of it worked. I tried a new method: I think that keeping a diary will make me feel more secure and confident of myself. 

It was midnight. I walked towards the school's entrance, and tried to keep my patience just a little bit more, playing a game of Surfers Rise. My dad was late... very late. Though i must admit, i didn't worry a bit. Ever since 2nd grade, my dad always left me in the dust, to the point whereas i'd end up taking the bus, alone, home. 

My mom would worry, and would think of ways to improve my condition, but no matter how hard she thought of a solution to my dad's ponctuality and sense of responsability, she'd end up in a dead end. Plus, she was a 24/7 constant emergency line worker. I was proud of her, and i didn't want to take her dream job away from her. In addition, i admire her so much; she inspires me to help people too. In fact, helping people is the first thing that motivates me... that helps me keep going. 

I looked right and left, one last time, seeing no cars near, i headed towards the metro station. 

Like always, the metro was empty. The only people that were really in it was: me, a half dead half alive old lady, a beirdo that just swallowed a bug, and a 37 year old creep who's been staring at me ever since i've entered this train. To avoid eye contact, or getting myself into any kinds of trouble, i simply blowed my music up to maximum, into my earphones, until i fell asleep.

[...]

I arrived home. Like always, i proceeded my ritual: 

Walking towards my door, wiping out my shoes on the doormat, entering my key in the keyway, rotating it, holding the knob, opening the door, closing it behind me, taking my shoes off, hearing footsteps coming down of the stairs, and seeing my mom all weirded out from my "sudden" appearance.

-Honey. Where were you? Wasn't your dad supposed to pick you up?

I took an irratated sigh and replied:

- No mom. Like always, dad is late. 

-Oh i sure hope by that, that you mean very late. What happened to you?! You look all pale!

She layed a finger on me to check my temperature, and being quite tired and put out of my day, i pushed it back and said:

-Mom... I'm fine.

-No you're not!

She started touching her pockets, searching for something. Being intrigued, i asked:

-What are you doing?

-Honey, I am calling your dad.

-Wait! Please! No!

-Yes! Your dad promised me he'd take you for a lift today, and this time, i am not gonna let that pass.

-But wait! Mom! Aren't you the one who said that working is important?! That you shouldn't distur-

-Your dad PROMISED me to be more responsable from now on. Now if he can't do that, we'll need have a serious discussion, between us.

She continued searching for her phone, looking in every pocket, jars, bins, wherever she could feel like it was hiding. Feeling worried and culpability for what was going on. I didn't want to give dad anymore trouble. These days have been extremely hard for him and i'd feel entirely responsable, if he'd get problems with mom too. 

Mom found her phone and i started impeaching her to call him. 

-Lyris! What are you doin-?! Get off me!

-No mom! I'm not gonna let you call dad! 

-Honey!

I kept trying to take the phone away from her hands.

I stopped. She took a deep breath and declared:

-What is wrong with you? First, I'm trying to know whether you feel alright or not, and you just offensively refuse my help. Second, i'm trying to figure things out with your fathe-

-That's, where you're wrong, mom. Excuse me if you ever felt offended by the way i acted, when you just tried to help me. But sometimes, you can be quite overwhelming. And i already feel tired as it is. I don't always need you to be there, at every second of my life. And mom... you and dad have been through a lot lately... I know it's hard, and not gonna lie, i can't tell how hard, but i don't want you guys to get into any fights. If you want, I'll talk with dad, and you can-

-No. No. It's all my fault. I'm sorry, about my behavior around you lately... i just... i just want the best for you. You must find me as an over-protective mother but... I just... *sniff... I can't afford to loose you. 

At this moment, i felt a huge pain in my heart... Pain brought out of joy.

- After all we've been through. Yes... *sigh... i admit that i can be quite suffocating at times, but i'll try to get better... alright?

-I guess... but please... don't call dad.

-I promise honey... I won't.

She smiled. And i smiled back. I then headed for the stairs, and arrived to my sweet holy home: my room.