11th Drink:: Panic Attack

You know it isn’t real.

The cold fingertips ghosting across your skin and the hot slime following closely behind, coating your flesh like thick syrup. White, blinding terror rings behind your eyes while your hands begin to violently shake. Your vision shutters and the edges are turning black; curling smoke foaming inward to blind you slowly.

But you know it isn’t real.

Your mind is blank, yet it is overflowing with information stolen from this moment and memory alike. Hot breath on your neck, bodies squirming in your space, blades pressed against flesh accompanied by unwelcome hands. Suffocating: draw in a deep breath filled with sweat and alcohol and cigarette smoke. You choke.

But you know it isn’t real.

Breathing shortly becomes impossible while garbled thoughts are screaming so loud, your lungs freeze and stutter to a halt. Now your whole body is engulfed in this fear so bright it is strangling your bloodstream with each inhale getting stuck in your throat. Your chest is coiled so tight you wonder if you will suffocate. 

But you know it isn’t real.

“Run before it gets you!”   Your mind finally settles on one coherent thought, propelling your legs into action, but you hold still; clenching your fists until your nails bite flesh. You shut your jaw tight and your eyes are steal. Your mind is shrieking and pounding inside of your skull.

“Doom is coming! Get away! Find safety before it’s too late!”

But you know it isn’t real.

Oh gods, it’s so hard to fight though with the pressure building upon your tiny shoulders. You can’t handle anymore, you’re losing control and sanity is a strange mystery so far out of reach. You can’t breathe and you can only see escape routes and you can’t understand what your dearest friend’s moving lips are trying to say. The pressure keeps building and now your bones are splintering. Pain rips scarlet trails through your chest.

But you know it isn’t real.

 

……don’t you?

Advertisements