a poetic definition of a panic attack.

 

I can feel my heart speeding away, as if to catch a flight.

People around me walk past, unaware of the hurricane brimming inside me.

My vision blurry, with the images of my broken subconscious coinciding with the reality.

I sit down, hugging my knees, as if the very action would save me from the demons.

Ah yes, the demons from under my bed.

The demons that made me cover my toes and curl up like a baby at night, now run wild in the sun too.

The lump in my throat keeps getting bigger, as even breathing becomes a chore.

The ache that started in the tiniest compartment of my bloodied heart has now found it's way across my chest and down my belly.

I hug myself closer as if to stop the shaking.

My knuckles are white and my palms are cold.

The demons from under my bed have snuck out, and are now running wild.

Is all this real or just my paranoid mind going crazy again ?

~ shreya.