My heart is bashing itself against the inside of my chest, screaming to be free

I keep gulping air in but my throat doesn’t want it. It’s hunched in on itself so hard that its muscles are swollen, shaking.

Sweat drips from the tip of my chin. Kinda looks yellow, I think.

I feel like I’m melting. Icing over. I’m becoming a puddle of frozen skin. Thawing, refreezing

So nauseous. I can’t puke. Not right now

My body looks so weird from up here…

I’m not up here, I’m

Down there. Seeing my body through the fire alarm’s beady red eyes. I want to go back to myself,

PLEASE. Please let it stop. Who am I talking to?

Why am I shaking? I can’t move my hand. The shirt drops from its contorted grasp. My fingers are stuck in some cryptic gang sign

The ceiling fan has turned the lights into strobes, flashing all around my head. My vision is leaving. I guess it doesn’t like what it’s seeing.

Someone is running at me from behind. I can hear their feet pounding. I try to turn around but my legs give out, collapsing. Betraying me after all these years.

My vision flees completely. I’m glad- I don’t want to see myself die. I don’t want to die. Or maybe I do. I just want whatever’s happening to me to stop

The pounding grows louder, deafening.

My heart tries to make up for all the beats it will never get to have. It’s frantic now. It deserves more time to sing its song, the bass in the choir

This pain must mean I’m dead or dying. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe

I can’t breathe…

I see a hand in front of my face, knuckles I know, fingers I recognize

My hand. It’s my hand. I can move it now, a glorious feeling

I’m lying on the floor. I can breathe now, my heart is calm

I push myself up to a sitting position, leaning my head against the base of my bed. I take a deep breath, a beautifully full, sweet breath of freshly laundered clothes.

A pile of clothes lie in front of me, patiently waiting to be folded. A thumping comes from the hallway outside, and I remember someone running at me.

But that’s just the washing machine. Just laundry. I’m okay, just folding my clothes. I’m okay.

Just laundry.