Oh no. Not again.
That feeling of falling. Falling faster and faster through an endless well.
She felt this would never end and that was the worst part. She would have preferred to be nailed down onto the floor rather than keeping on falling.
She never found herself dreaming committing suicide, but that was OK if she had been informed that she was going to die soon. Dying sounded like a relief at those moments of rolling into Hell.
She would feel like holding somewhere very thightly as if that would help her fall smoothly. This time it was the arms of the archaic chair. Once it was his arm.
She remembered a deplorable picture from that attack as she glued herself to the chair: Sitting on the floor, soaked all over, with her messy hair and in her turquoise raincoat. Exhausted because of running under the rain and frustrated with being misunderstood or better to say, disunderstood at all!
It was months ago. They had had a quarrel in the middle of the street, shouting at and blaming each other as usual. In the end, he had left her there and rushed to his room with the furious expression on his face which she hated to see.
She paused for a while as she watched him disappear at the corner, then she started running to catch him. It was not over yet. She had some more to say.
She was out of breath as she bumped onto his door. As soon as he opened the door, she collapsed. When he saw her in that situation, the furious expression on his face left its place to compassion. She remembered holding his arm as tightly as a koala clinging to a tree. -She gave out a short, whispering laugh. That was really surprising that she could make fun of herself at those times of agony.- He paniced and asked her over and over what he could do to help. She just wanted to sit there, on the floor at the doorway and begged him just to be with her without asking anything and attempting to help. He wanted to take her to her bed but she resisted.
Finally he gave in and sat down next to her. He waited silently for minutes until her attack was over. He only repeated for a few times: "I am here. Take your time." She was crying, her eyes closed. It seemed like she was not hearing him but she was, and that was exactly what she needed to hear.
Eventually when it was over, it was not only her who was in a great relief.
She opened her eyes and let free the arms of the chair. Falling had stopped. She was so tired. It must have lasted about half an hour. She immediately tried to find the hidden reason that might have caused the attack as her therapist had advised her to.
What was she literally thinking about just before the falling started?
That had been a great day out and she was really cheerful until he came into her mind and a reasonless chagrin sank onto her chest like a sudden darkness sank onto a sunny midday.
Basically, he himself couldn't have been the reason of her distress, but the unnamed, thus unsolved problem between the two could have.
This or that, she wanted to get rid of these attacks badly.
It all had started with that e-mail from her elder sister.
YOU ARE READING
Anxious As Hell
Aktuelle LiteraturIt was almost two in the morning before they kissed goodnight and went into their rooms next to each other. They had big smiles on their faces. They couldn't tell why. They just had that meaningless grin whenever they spent time together. They had...
