What's this? Another story? Yes yes I know. This has to be the...seventh story I've started this year? Well what can I say? A plot's a plot and plots need to be written down.

I'm not entirely sure about this. I'm sorry if I don't get the disorder exactly right, but i'm trying. If any of you have expierience of some form with Social Anxiety Disorder then please give me some pointers. They would probably be a lot more help than an internet page :)

Summary: Jack Harris has been diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder since he was fourteen. He never leaves the house, he never speaks with anyone other than his parents. All his life, he has been homeschooled and sheltered from the outside world. Everything changes when his parents decide to send him to a public high school. What's a nervous guy like Jack to do when he meet's him.

~Prologue~

"-Social Anxiety disorder…"

What?

"-make an appointment for once a week. We can schedule more time if it's needed."

I open and close my mouth a few times only to find that no sound would escape. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Frantically I looked from my mother's concerned face to the doctor's professional face. Both of them look grave.

Why do they look like that? Have I done something wrong?

"Jack?"

Snapping my head up, I glance nervously at the two adults in front of me, carefully surveying their expressions. They are worried. I've caused them to worry. I… "I-I'm s-sorry!" I sputtered before feeling my cheeks heat up. Carefully, I direct my gaze away from them. I can't bear to see their expressions any longer, knowing that I was the one that caused them to look that way. I am horrible person.

"Jack, honey, are you okay?" I didn't have to look up to see her concerned expression. I knew it was there. But behind that look…what if this whole situation annoyed her? What if I was just a bother? Maybe she didn't want to put up with me but just did it for show. What if-

I hurriedly ceased my thoughts and chewed on my bottom lip as I wiped my sweating palms on the thighs of my blue jeans. I don't want to be here. I want to go home and go straight to my room and to my books. That way, I'll have no one to judge me. It would just be me, myself and the wonderful world of books.

Gulping, I gave a curt nod of my head and continued to gaze at the floor. I felt sick.

"Mrs Harris, I have written Jackson a script for Prozac. It will not cure him but it will help decrease symptoms such as sweating and shaking. Make sure he shows up to his appointments with Lara. Talking will help, Jackson." He said, talking directing to me.

I glance up and offer him a weak smile before glancing away. Talking won't work. Nothing would work. I don't have a problem to fix. I just…I want everyone to stop judging me. If they do that one thing, then perhaps I'll be fine.