Vannah

United States

Y'know, I really hope I can pull off the cool mysterious deep writer persona. That'd be sick.

Message to Readers

I'm really tired.

Behind the Mirror

April 29, 2019

FREE WRITING

0
Suffocation. 
My lungs burn, my body burns, my vision is black and my sweat is cold.
I reach out for what I cannot grab. There's nothing but air, but my lungs suck it in and quickly reject it. 
Shaking, jittery, flailing in a much too open space that feels as if it's squeezing me lifeless. 

Laying on the floor I let my sobs and gasps or breath roll over me, I submerge into it. 
The more I fight the longer it takes.
Cheeks wet with salt from my leaky eyes I embrace the panic and fear that racks my body, down to my bones. 
I think I might die.
My mind runs and runs and runs because my body isn't.

Air seeps in slowly, like a blow up mattress slowly filling. 
Or perhaps deflating via tear. 
The panic seeks out, and air returns.

Chest empty. 
Red and splotchy I sigh. 
This never ending spiral down down down.
I sink further into the quicksand.
Time fades around me.

I'm a messy bed with tangled up sheets.
An unkempt mind that you'd never guess.
Immaculate organization, cleanliness, obsessive mind.  
Always racing, 
always racing.
Mind rushing, thoughts running. 
After a while you forget why you're running. 

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