It happens all of a sudden, no transition time. One moment I'm walking towards the lift, the next I find myself running up the stairs to the gardens. I walk and walk, I circuit the park twice I think. It gets too much to bear, I need to talk, I want to get it out. I call a friend, and then I call another and another. I can't get the words out. I feel like it's nothing and I'm worrying everyone for nothing. I try to smile and it doesn't work, my lips won't curve - it's like they won't listen to me. My head is getting excited, Content, Content, Content, it's chanting. It won't stop chanting. I try to talk, I try to say what's worrying me but the words won't come. I'm scared I don't know what's worrying me. I look up to my building, I spot my home, but it's not home, it feels weird to call it home. I don't want to go. Not yet. Maybe that's what is worrying me.
I give up trying to get the words out, I stash my phone in my pockets and walk and walk and walk. There's a kid learning how to skate - four, maybe five years old. His mom is skating beside him, he's stumbling, his legs start going different ways every two seconds. I'm scared he'll fall. He falls in under a minute. I feel like I should rush to him, his mom turns around and just stands there, waiting. He gets up on his own, he's not hurt because he's wearing knee pads and elbow pads and a helmet and what not. In the next two minutes he falls down about five more times, get back up with no creases on his forehead. I touch my forehead and feel the permanent one between my brows. I miss my mother, I miss home and I miss the air that feels mine. This feels like I'm intruding, or living someone else's life.
I can feel my throat getting lumpy, suddenly I don't want people to exist. I tread the distance to the elevators and find myself alone in one. My nose is getting pink and my eyes look shiny, I hate to look at myself weak so I turn the other way. By the time I'm turning my keys in the door, my cheeks feel wet. My head is starting to scream louder and louder, Content! Content! Content! I try to squeeze my head flat with my hands. I'm screaming but the voice won't come. My breathing feels ragged, I'm gasping for breath and I sit right there on the floor. I wait and wait and wait for my breathing to return to normal. It happens slowly, one breath at a time. I stand up and walk to my room, it feels weird, all wrong. The dreamcatcher helps with the dreams but they're becoming real now so it just hangs there useless.
I start talking to myself in my head, no sharp edges, no sharp edges, no sharp edges. I don't know if the books help or make it worse. Music feels like it's coming from far away. I sit on my bed, no, the bed - it doesn't feel mine. I cross my legs and just sit, waiting for it to get over. I try to think about food and books and movies and words and butterflies in my stomach. Nothing helps. So I just wait. In a few minutes it's over and I feel silly. My head is happy with the torture it has just witnessed, the writer is celebrating it's victory. In the end, the writer wins. The writer always wins.
I give up trying to get the words out, I stash my phone in my pockets and walk and walk and walk. There's a kid learning how to skate - four, maybe five years old. His mom is skating beside him, he's stumbling, his legs start going different ways every two seconds. I'm scared he'll fall. He falls in under a minute. I feel like I should rush to him, his mom turns around and just stands there, waiting. He gets up on his own, he's not hurt because he's wearing knee pads and elbow pads and a helmet and what not. In the next two minutes he falls down about five more times, get back up with no creases on his forehead. I touch my forehead and feel the permanent one between my brows. I miss my mother, I miss home and I miss the air that feels mine. This feels like I'm intruding, or living someone else's life.
I can feel my throat getting lumpy, suddenly I don't want people to exist. I tread the distance to the elevators and find myself alone in one. My nose is getting pink and my eyes look shiny, I hate to look at myself weak so I turn the other way. By the time I'm turning my keys in the door, my cheeks feel wet. My head is starting to scream louder and louder, Content! Content! Content! I try to squeeze my head flat with my hands. I'm screaming but the voice won't come. My breathing feels ragged, I'm gasping for breath and I sit right there on the floor. I wait and wait and wait for my breathing to return to normal. It happens slowly, one breath at a time. I stand up and walk to my room, it feels weird, all wrong. The dreamcatcher helps with the dreams but they're becoming real now so it just hangs there useless.
I start talking to myself in my head, no sharp edges, no sharp edges, no sharp edges. I don't know if the books help or make it worse. Music feels like it's coming from far away. I sit on my bed, no, the bed - it doesn't feel mine. I cross my legs and just sit, waiting for it to get over. I try to think about food and books and movies and words and butterflies in my stomach. Nothing helps. So I just wait. In a few minutes it's over and I feel silly. My head is happy with the torture it has just witnessed, the writer is celebrating it's victory. In the end, the writer wins. The writer always wins.
That's good writing.
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