Chapter One
You never can tell what's going to happen next.
I was having a terrible day, even by my standards. Driving home from work is normally a blessing for me because it's my chance to run away from the day and start a-fresh in my head. The on coming drivers all had their lights on to see them through the dark and the wet and the slight film of fog forming in the air, but for some reason even the most timid of lights seemed to affect me like a lighthouse was glaring right in my face.
In an attempt at escapism i turned the radio dial up. Some old rock song from decades past filled the small space of my car and all it could make me think of was how small this space actually is. I was thinking about how easy it would be for me to be crushed in this small space if i crashed. I was thinking about this place being my own metalic coffin on wheels. I was having a minor attack of claustrophobia.
First my knees began to itch, and then my whole body was aggrevated by something or other, be it the temperature, the humidity, the air-con, the anything. I was patting myself down all over trying to calm myself down but it only made my driving erratic and my behaviour worse. I was praying for a lay-by or somewhere safe to stop but all i could see was lights, blinking, heavy lights firing one-by-one at me from the lane opposite. The roof of the car was getting lower and the doors were constricting like my spine against the grey cloth finish of my cheap cell-block of a car.
I began to notice the smallest things, like the rain dropping on the ground outside and the heavy-drops hitting my car. Each one sounded like another death knell annoucning the enevitable. My phobic attack was turning into a small scale panic attack and i needed to be off the road. Finally i spied a lay-by for me to stop in. I pulled up onto the gravelly track and the crunching sound under my wheels made me think of tanks in World War Two crunching over the piles of bones of dead prisioners. All these images flashing into my head, and they kept coming fast. I was in such a panic to get out that i couldnt negociated the door handle and had a job escaping, but when that door gave in the sudden blast of cool fresh wet air against my hot skin was the taste of freedom that i suspect a wrongly-convicted lifer gets after being set free.
I was outside in the pouring rain on my hands and knees kissing the gravel track and looking up at the dark sky above so i could taste the rain and reassure myself that i am here and i am real and this is all really happening and that i can deal with it.
It made me wonder, what had brought this attack on? Was i having a proper meltdown? Is this the tip of the iceburg? What is wrong with me?
I was having a terrible day, even by my standards. Driving home from work is normally a blessing for me because it's my chance to run away from the day and start a-fresh in my head. The on coming drivers all had their lights on to see them through the dark and the wet and the slight film of fog forming in the air, but for some reason even the most timid of lights seemed to affect me like a lighthouse was glaring right in my face.
In an attempt at escapism i turned the radio dial up. Some old rock song from decades past filled the small space of my car and all it could make me think of was how small this space actually is. I was thinking about how easy it would be for me to be crushed in this small space if i crashed. I was thinking about this place being my own metalic coffin on wheels. I was having a minor attack of claustrophobia.
First my knees began to itch, and then my whole body was aggrevated by something or other, be it the temperature, the humidity, the air-con, the anything. I was patting myself down all over trying to calm myself down but it only made my driving erratic and my behaviour worse. I was praying for a lay-by or somewhere safe to stop but all i could see was lights, blinking, heavy lights firing one-by-one at me from the lane opposite. The roof of the car was getting lower and the doors were constricting like my spine against the grey cloth finish of my cheap cell-block of a car.
I began to notice the smallest things, like the rain dropping on the ground outside and the heavy-drops hitting my car. Each one sounded like another death knell annoucning the enevitable. My phobic attack was turning into a small scale panic attack and i needed to be off the road. Finally i spied a lay-by for me to stop in. I pulled up onto the gravelly track and the crunching sound under my wheels made me think of tanks in World War Two crunching over the piles of bones of dead prisioners. All these images flashing into my head, and they kept coming fast. I was in such a panic to get out that i couldnt negociated the door handle and had a job escaping, but when that door gave in the sudden blast of cool fresh wet air against my hot skin was the taste of freedom that i suspect a wrongly-convicted lifer gets after being set free.
I was outside in the pouring rain on my hands and knees kissing the gravel track and looking up at the dark sky above so i could taste the rain and reassure myself that i am here and i am real and this is all really happening and that i can deal with it.
It made me wonder, what had brought this attack on? Was i having a proper meltdown? Is this the tip of the iceburg? What is wrong with me?
posted by TokenArtStudent at 8:24 PM
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