blip

Here at home on the couch feeling - what d'you call it - disenchanted, not comfortable, physically taut - I'm waiting for something to happen what is it ? There's a twinge in my thorax - so rest and watch tv - the Blue Planet - I'm hungry and want tea. I've spoken to mother and booked lunch for her birthday at Scott's on Monday February the fifth at twelve-thirty. I'm aware of a familiar arrhythmia inside me, a kind of thoracic nagging - dragging my thoughts from the wet things on tv and obsess on the organs discordant inside me. As I try to ignore the snagging gets stronger, I'm sweating, relax ! Control your breathing (I talk myself into reassurance, I've been here). Something in my chest seems to blip and I flip in my head and the urgent sensation, whatever has fed it, that discomposure of earlier, but now growing stronger and feeding itself without hinder - sets everything pumping without care or restraint and my head starts exploding and here there's a pain and this awful sensation which is reaching a peak - my heart is now thumping and skipping and slurring not purring - well flying, my temples are sweating I'm crying, limbs tingling with pin & needles in - I wrestle with racing a kind of conducting like trying to deaden the shock of destructing, and pains in my abdomen and back seem insurmountable and the race in my chest that's almost uncountable and now I'm in panic and think it's my calling but I've been here earlier as I keep recalling - must try to zoom out and relax to bring focus on breathing and now set to calmness the stuff and the feeling of failing - unhinging my grip upon what would you call it, like things which seem friendly and cosy and breath long and slowly ... the grip starts unfolding as someone inside slips their foot off the throttle and pulls on the breaks and the gears shift to idle and whilst everything seems like it's not quite as normal as I seemed to recall it but certainly slower less frantic and panic has shifted to what would you call it - a foggy denouement.

My apprehension he'll open the throttle again and deliver me over the hurdle with frantic propulsion is quashed now the sadist inside me has bedded his mental corrosion and now I feel shattered and scared and, well, alone.

No fun - a panic attack on the couch here at home.