Herbs and Spices // snowbaz

breathe in. and out. repeat.

Breathe in. 1. 2. 3. Breathe out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat until it starts working, repeat until it feels normal again. Repeat until the vicelike grip is gone.

Penelope Bunce was spiralling. Her inside was thick with something she couldn't describe, an emotion she couldn't contain. Her outside was entirely blank, save from the tears that had been threatening to bubble over and spill down her cheeks. Penelope Bunce had always been okay with herself, sure of herself; or at least that was the perception she allowed others to see. But she was a swirl of anxiety, not always, but often.

After the battle of Mages, where Simon had defeated the Humdrum, she had frequently felt the anxiety like a deadweight on her chest, it's mangled claw a noose around her throat as it squeezed the breath from her body. It didn't always pounce on her like this, but god it happened more often than not. Penny didn't know why her own mortality suddenly was the headline story on the newspaper of her mind every night she went to bed. Something about the darkened room, the too tight sheets, the shadows that bounced off walls and scared her, the silence. God the silence was the worst. Something about these things awakened whatever anxiety was, it shook it awake and goaded it into leaping onto her chest and pushing her down.

Existential dread was something she had always struggled with, at moments. She could give advice to others, like when Simon had been facing his own issues with fighting the Humdrum,
"But why do I have to fight him, Penny?"
"Because no one else will, Simon."
She knew everyone struggled with these questions of their own importance, but that didn't make her feel any less alone.

Breathe in. 1. 2. 3. Breathe out.
Tears dribbled from her eyes and into her hairline. The ceiling of her room morphed and twisted in her distorted vision and she could feel, and hear, only her own shaky breaths.

She knew rationally she shouldn't feel like this. Rational thoughts did little in moments like this, they only made her feel worse because she knew she was being ridiculous. But god existentialism didn't give a damn about rationality. Being existential was to be rational, because living a life was not rational.

Penelope hated these spirals. She hated the way an invasive thought could spring out of nowhere and sit heavily on her chest, sit in her throat, crush her windpipe.

Pipes clanked through the wall behind her head as Baz and Simon prepared for sleep, both under the impression Penelope was doing the same thing, completely oblivious to the emotions she was feeling.
She could hear the soft murmuring of the two boys voices, without hearing any specifics of what they were saying, and she felt a shaky breath fill her lungs as her eyes flickered shut.

The sound of them quietly existing around her anchored her in reality more than anything else she could've experienced. She would be okay. Everything would be okay, eventually. And if they weren't okay for a while, that was okay too, because she knew she was never alone.

************
I have no idea what this was but I guess you can know where my headspace has been recently. I haven't really felt inspired or like I could be bothered to write, which is shitty and not a fun thing to experience.

Anyway I hope you enjoyed and leave me a comment or vote or suggestion of what to write next and I hope you're doing okay and that you accept and love yourself today.