Stuck in an Elevator

Prologue.

I couldn't breathe.

But honestly, the only thing my mind could wrap itself around was the idea of being in here. The idea of being in this boxed shaped room, with no windows, no sunlight, nada.

I gasped as fresh tears cascaded down my face. My eyes were burning at this point. The amount of tears my body was producing seemed inhuman, yet, gallons were practically pouring from my tear ducts.

It felt as if someone had stuffed a stuffed animal down my throat and had their fingers wrapped around my nose so I couldn't let out a single breath. The huge lump in my throat probably had something to do with not breathing, but that was thought was in the back of my mind.

Nothing was getting passed my head though.

Nothing.

Not thinking, not being able to breathe, my shirt soaked through with tears, it all just didn’t bother me.

What bothered me was that I couldn’t see past the tears to try and find a solution to try and get out of this mad house.

Salty tears filled my vision and I gasped for air desperately. I tried looking at the locked doors, and I wanted to run to them, kick them down, rip them open, anything to get me out. But, they were big, steel and strong. And I was small, fragile, and weak. The gym will never appeal to me, Netflix, sleep and food were always so much better.

Sobs racked through my body, but I tried to breathe in and out. The key word here is tried. I tried to calm myself down, but it didn’t work as well as I wanted it to.

I fell the ground in a thump and shook rapidly, my eyes clenching shut as the unbearable pain of a small panic attack shuddered through me.

This was it. I had given up trying to save myself, and the next thing would be death by panic attack. Did that even exist? Probably not, but I would be the first one.

Weezing, I tried to control my breathing, but instead, I sounded like I was taking my last few breaths before I died for a slow, painful heart attack. Cute, I know.

         I honestly didn't know how I was able to stand myself up without fainting, but here I was standing. That wasn't going to last long, that's for sure. I would go tumbling down in a few seconds. Knowing what was going to happen, I just sat on the ground.

Panic attacks were common for me. I had my first one at the age of fourteen, and now I was seventeen. But, the panics shuddered through me just like my first few. They occurred when I wanted to get out of somewhere quickly, and instead of leaving, I panicked. Like, wanting to get out of the ocean quickly because of the thought of drowning, or the shark thoughts.

Or wanting to get out of an elevator because you were scared of small spaces. Same old, same old.

It was actually a part of my life now. The claustrophobic part, not the elevator part. There was no way I was going to stay in this elevator for the rest of my life.

The claustrophobic part of my life meant having the windows of the car open, even during the cold winter nights, and never sitting on the inside of the booth at your favorite restaurant. It was a tough life, but an elevator was the one thing I always avoided. Along with the list above.

I needed to get out of here. Maybe the elevator would start moving... But I strongly doubted that. Call me a 'Debby Downer' but you would be thinking the same thing. Negative thoughts just clouded my mind, nothing positive was passing through me, and that only meant one thing.