Toska

by retrodiction

Have you ever just lied wide awake at night, physically and mentally exhausted, yet your mind is still running at a thousand miles per hour. Like a freight train speeding for a head on collision into a dead end, a brick wall. And you find that there is nothing coherent about these thoughts. You skip from one memory to another before you even had the time to process the very first one. Nothing makes sense, and you wish your mind would’ve just listened when you yelled “SHUT UP” the first three times. (Silently, of course) But all you feel is the weight of the world pressing down on you, suffocating you. And never before have you felt so small, so insignificant.

Sometimes in these moments I can hear a ringing in my ear. The most persistent and annoying ringing that does nothing but add to the noise my mind makes. It’s as if there’s a circus going on around me but I’m the only one who can hear it. Someone once asked me, what if this ringing held the secret messages of the Universe. Secret messages not meant for our ears. So what if, just what if, these messages were exactly what we need. A simple solution, a word of assurance, maybe a familiar comfort.

At worse times I can feel my heart changing. That thing where your heart feels as though it was expanding. Swelling and overflowing with emotions that it’s almost pressing against the bones that line your ribcage. It’s pressing into your lung’s personal space and you literally feel like you  Just. Can’t. Breathe. Your breathes are not long enough, deep enough, full enough. Yet it doesn’t stop expanding. Until your chest cavity feels like nothing else is there except for this swelling heart. Trapped tight in the limited space between the back of your ribcage and the front of your left shoulder blade.

But of course that’s not even remotely possible. It’s not physically possible for your heart to expand to this ridiculous size. Or for your lungs to feel like they aren’t working anymore even though, clearly, you’re still breathing. You’re still breathing. You’re still alive. And there just aren’t any words for it. There are no words for these utterly illogical things that you’re feeling. For how you feel. What you feel. Why you feel the way you feel.

It’s moments like these where I feel like I don’t recognise myself. Where I am, what I’m doing, or where I’m going. It’s like I’m like lost inside my mind. Sometimes it’s a labyrinth. Sometimes it’s a huge huge house filled with nothing but trapdoors. Other times, it’s just a white empty room. But always there isn’t a way out. I’ve been lost for a long while now, and all I’m afraid of is that I might never find my way back.
 

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