my demise

first came the lists. so many lists were made. finding them now, half scratched out, remembering things I had forgotten to do that didn't matter anymore. most of the lists had at least 5 or 6 repeating items on them. big things that just kept getting pushed over to the next week, the next month. how old am I again? is it worth it?

then came the stress. I no longer needed to write the lists down anymore. a constant scroll rolled past my brain below my eyes like terrible stock market updates. what was I forgetting now? which figment was trading up? which needed more research, more time, more effort? they don't even exist except for in our imaginations. they weigh so much on my soul. they pervade my dreams. they are in my blind spots. they're waiting.

Trivial thoughts. I am but one woman. only so many hours in a day. everything will be OK. it will all work out in the end. stop over-analyzing things.

and now there are headaches. I can't escape them while awake, popped way too many generic pain killers to count. then the itching. everywhere. little bumps. red irritated skin. oh and don't forget the nausea. skin crawling. teeth grinding. am I loosing my mind?

"breathe," she told me. "from your diaphragm." thank you. I'm breathing. I'm focusing. until now i didn't realize the panic was all about a lack. not enough air. you are on the other side of the planet. you are existing on a different day, a different time. you told me exactly what I needed to hear.