Usually.
Sometimes there's just a feeling without palpable origin. However, I assume it emits from the depths of the iceberg that is my subconscious.
At this point, there's a 50/50 chance it'll bubble there for a bit and then dissolve. Not disappearing, but becoming more manageable bits of a whole.
For this next part, I want you to think of a clothes dryer. Like one of those fancy ones that is metallic red or blue, and plays a sweet little jingle when its done, but more importantly has a window.
A t-shirt gets thrown in, and begins to tumble around. Around and around it goes... not very quickly, but its environment insists that it continue.
Then, a few more t-shirts, some socks, a sweatshirt, etc.... It's beginning to get hot. But its not the dryer that produces the increasingly scorching temperature, no. It's the items tumbling around... faster and faster. Rolling over of one another... again and again and again... As they bounce around intermittently, the combinations change... but the tumbling continues...
God, its getting so hot... another few shirts, shoes, shorts... Jesus, there was already enough rolling around.... faster...
Capacity seemed to have been reached a few shirts ago, but the rolling and bouncing continues as the dryer itself begins to rumble uncontrollably....
There would be a scream if not for the vice around my lungs. The only pathetic breaths that can be released come in rapid uneven intervals. Pacing failed to deliver relief, so the knees are now hugged tightly to my chest. Rocking happens automatically, the body must now act on its own, for the mind is preoccupied with the demon dryer.
Everything was getting blurry, but now theres a white hot light, piercing and blinding although the eyelids remain tightly shut.
Dying.
The mind is not able to articulate much, but that is its one conclusion.
This body will cease to function soon, the mind is sure of it. The body cannot bear any more of this, it will have no choice, but to stop completely.
As this certainty reaches its peak, the vice loosens its grip, oxygen enters the lungs at a higher capacity, and the eyelids crack open...
My palms are chilled as sweat evaporates from them and blood slowly rushes back to them. Looking around, my eyes feel like they have a soft focus filter on them - like I'm living in an 80's soap opera. I gradually gain awareness of my limbs, allowing them to unclench muscle by muscle. I rub at my increasingly tear soaked eyes.
I survived. Again.
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