Breathe.
Beating faster, and faster, and faster. So fast, I can feel it beating against my chest.
She told me once she wanted to rip open her own chest, break her ribcage, and slow down her beating heart.
Before, I scoffed.
Now, I understand.
Breathe.
Maybe thinking of something else will help? How about the United game coming on in a bit? Or my next trip back home? I think a set of pushups until I can’t get up anymore will do the trick.
Up – down
Up – down
Up – down – H O L D.
Down.
Breathe.
Fuck, that didn’t work. Beating quicker, pumping away, but my mind is racing much faster.
A weight not unlike a hydraulic press – only getting heavier and heavier – pressure on my chest.
Why can’t I write coherently anymore? Was it another one of my failed endeavors – all excited in the beginning, but the minute I hit the first roadblock, I gave up?
Let’s watch something on YouTube. Or read that book sitting on my nightstand.
But I’ve got too much to do, and this isn’t the time to rest.
Breathe.
Slack message from my boss? Fifty unread emails? Planning of my personal and professional life? I can’t do it.
5 minutes. That’s all I’m asking for. Sit down at that table for 5 minutes, and just focus. Setting a timer, this is not impossible, Dhruv.
Bzzzzz, Bzzzzz, Bzzzzz…
Where did those 5 minutes go? That productivity article said I should want to go past 5 minutes and do more. Fucking sham.
Maybe writing will help? Hell, my favorite thing to do is to over-think; why not do that on paper?
Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack
Fuck, this is garbage. How did I even do this before? The content plan says,
“Educational posts on common mental illnesses; smashing some common misconceptions around mental health; an interview series with prominent mental health professionals or industry experts;”
What about a podcast? Everybody does podcasts now, fuck that.
So many ideas.
Breathe.
Delphi & Duke look up at me. Maybe a stroll with them will help? But they’re so restless – I think they can tell.
Time for my daily Instagram download and uninstall routine.
Scroll, scroll, scroll.
Dopamine, just a tad bit, can’t be all that bad, can it?
He went to Europe to backpack? Again?
She’s still dating him?
He’s looking huge – I need to be doing more pushups and less takeout.
Uninstall app? – yes please.
The glow from my screen is burning my eyes, but I just need something, anything, to take me away from this feeling of impending doom.
Breathe.
Is this it? Is this the best I can do? I’ve been trying to get out of this bed for an hour now, but my chest is so constricted. Maybe try to get up on the count of three?
One, two, three…
Nope. Didn’t work. Resting heart rate is through the roof, but I’m fucking exhausted.
Like I’m swimming away from the shore swarming with my thoughts, only to be pushed back to them by a surging, insurmountable tide.
Can you all keep it down for just a minute? There’s too many of you, and I’m but one person. Just a little quiet, please.
The more I plead, the louder they get.
Put YouTube back on – some white noise in the background.
Maybe, if I close my eyes, and ignore the pounding in my chest, I’ll fall asleep and then…
Breathe.
Fuck, it’s already 10:13 am? All I did was toss and turn.
If I close my eyes for a bit, maybe I’ll dream and it’ll all go away – even if it’s just for a little bit.
But I can notice something…
There it is again, I can feel it…
Beating faster, and faster, and faster…
So fast, I can feel it beating against my chest.
Before, I scoffed.
Now, I understand.
Melan-jolly 