Jim van den Bos
Maybe it’s all the people that are around me.
Maybe it’s the bright lights that blind me.
Maybe I should’ve eaten.
Now, I should focus on my breathing.
The nerves crawl over me, like spiders off the floor.
Hopefully no one sees.
That it’s approaching my throat
My breath, I mean, it creeps up higher.
I see all but can’t make sense, are they looking?
I should know how to handle this.
I’ve been here before.
Now, huff and puff and try to act normal.
The spots appear one by one, black and vague
Blocking my view, I blink to focus. Still there.
I feel the back of my throat, my tongue thick.
Bursts of air are stuck, pushing.
My thoughts are shattered, I am a mess. Are they noticing?
My heart drumming, everywhere sweat,
No air, can’t see, no sense, can’t feel, everything tingles
Am I dead?
I open my eyes, people are staring.
The lights are normal, my breaths almost.
I stand up and walk on legs like twigs.
Escaping eyes as I rush home.
Again.
That part of me was right.
Saying:
“Never go outside”