My Lonely Cage
Lit Up: Mad March Microfiction
My hands tremble as I start to realise it’s happening; heat creeps in through my neck and face and perspiration leaves a sheen on my palms. My breaths are coming in short and fast, getting more and more rapid as the seconds tick by. My chest is tight, like concrete is holding me down, pulling me under. My hands ball into fists, the tension is unfathomable as I feel like I’m losing control. Door handles are useless to me now, my fingers no longer have the dexterity to engineer my escape. My panicked eyes are the only windows to my madness, my own horror traps me in a cage. I’m anchored to my chair as my world starts to spin around me and I withdraw into myself.
But to the outside I appear measured and calm. My colleagues think I’m working away, buried in a spreadsheet, meeting my deadlines. If only they knew my internal struggle, that in fact, I’m sitting here with the feeling that I could die; that my short, rapid breaths might cease at any moment and I could suffocate under the weight of my chest.
I don’t know what brought it on, what the words were that now furiously swirl unknown in my mind. I can’t tell a soul, they’ll think I’m crazy, mad, or a lunatic perhaps. I’m scared how they’ll react; my fear of judgement overpowering my need for help. I just need someone to sit with me whilst I gain control of my breathing, whilst I come back to myself.
I just need someone to remind me that I’m not alone.
