Have you ever watched yourself?
Not in the mirror, but out in public when you feel yourself zoning out and you can’t quite zone back in. So you’re stuck staring at you - your body - as if what you were seeing was a film instead of reality.
All you can think about is nothing.
No words are bumping and pushing and forcing themselves into your mind. Those unbirthed words are trying to form a comprehensive sentence as your physical self stands at the checkout of a Wal-Mart.
Is he stuttering or dry heaving? You can’t bring yourself to come up with an answer.
So you watch him trying to pick his wallet from his back pocket - his hands stumbling over their own fingers and twitching. The people behind him are looking at their phones; lost in their own world.
And even though you know they couldn’t care less about him -- you -- there’s still a filling sense of anxiety filling up whatever the hell you can call yourself.
Not even quite conscious, but you’re feeling the feeling of your heart beating ruthlessly against your ribcage, and the blur in your vision that almost tricks you into thinking you’re drowning.
But you know he (you?) isn’t actually drowning, but Jesus Christ it feels like it.
Now you can’t see him, but you see your hands shaking in front of you as they hand the twenty-dollar bill to the employee.
“Here’s your change, sir,” their dull, dead voice resonates in your empty skull like the coins they drop into your hand. But, damn it, a few fell onto the counter. It’s like your mind was trying to control you, instead of just watching like it had been, but now you’re not your mind.
“Thank you,” stuttered sotto-voce.
You just grab your bag and get out. Running but not really even moving. A hundred eyes stare at you and lock you down into place - you and your plastic bag with the smiley face - but they’re also rushing past; willing you to finally get the fuck out of here.
x :) x