Work Text:
One
Two
Three
Beat
One
Two
Three
Beat
Two fingers glued together, strumming patiently with determination against a collarbone.
One
Two
Three
Beat
Inhale. Exhale. Don’t forget to breathe. Her heart bashed and palpitated against the back of her skull. The vibration of its quickening speed vibrating through her throat. Constricting. Breathe. Too hard. Concentrate. Blink. Breathe. Think straight.
Don’t forget to smile.
A pained but sheepish smile grew on her face and she stared close to the blurry eyes of her companions who spoke in tongues. Fuzzy. Thick air. Can’t think. Can’t breathe.
One
Two
Three
Beat
Her heart still galloped around its claustrophobic pen in circles, heaving, restless, frantic, uncontrollable, frightened, wild.
Don’t cry. A pressure at the back of her eyes pushed at the concrete walls, crouched over, gritting and biting teeth, gnashing, defiant, fractured the barrier. Hot tears welling at the rims. Gushing rainfalls.
One
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Beat
Hot eyes, irregular breathing, sweaty palms, sensory overload, scared, hate it, anxiety.
One
Two
Three
Beat
“...What are you doing on the floor?”
She stares up with a mask of weariness, a mask that seems fake to look like a simple worry or awkwardness that makes them curious but satisfied. They see their suspicion but see something simple and petty, “Don’t you sit on your floors at home? It’s grounding.” They huff, eyes dimmer, but still swirling with mischief. They turn around, curiosity satisfied, where they can observe but do not need to intervene. The fake mask, hiding little pain, breaks and tears build in the corners. Fist clench, crescents engraved in the palm. Blood tasted on the lips. Heart still beating, voice more broken, hearing hazier and weakness condoned.
Two fingers, index and middle.
One
Two
Three
Tap. Beat.
Heartache and pain, sliced rivulets into the chest, brain an unravelled ball of yarn, throat poisoned and toxic, tingly, ears prickled. Fear and anxiety.
Welcome to my every day, slowly-escalating decrease in health, life.