Panic Attack. Sharp shocks sound loudly just under my heart. I can feel the beats increasing, like a never ending dandia raas. Thoughts of how I don’t want to exist. How I don’t want to think about the one think that has pushed me to this point. And of course the actual thought that started this off.
Acceleration. My breathing becomes faster. The thoughts quicken, blur, stop making sense. I can feel all of it rolling over and over and over. Trying to breathe to calm down. Scared, but don’t know who to talk to. Terrified. Petrified.
Pain. The sinking sense of reality droops in. The darkness seeps in. The ache of feeling comes sinking in – knowing what you know. The madness in my head, the chaos of my mind. I can’t do this, can’t cope with this.
I am unfunctionable. Broken. Discarded like a headless doll. A scrap on the side of the pavement – blowing in the wind while no-one watches it.
Can I climb out? Can I clamber up the broken glassed wall, out into the fresh air? We are still Sisyphus. The cause of our punishment unknown.
By: Beth Scupham