The Falling Terror
It was the falling terror. A rush which propels you to plummet forward with the spiked adrenaline which only comes from flight. The getting away never comes. Always there. In the endless drowning of train carriages which carry the invasive thoughts to a destination unreached. A falling which lasts beyond fear of landing. A perpetual falling which only escalates in intensity. A falling which keeps us just out of reach of the very thing we’re grasping at. It was the kind of anxious entrapment which threatened to kill but always chose to toy with its food first. Close your eyes and you see it all with even greater clarity. Block out those thoughts with medication and they only heighten the evening’s entertainment as future events which will never come to pass play over and over. Medication only acts as a stimulant instead of a relaxant. Everything is useless.
The falling accelerates between carriages. Doors swing open between installments but the train remains empty. It’s just me and the hunt. Wrapped in a blanket which insulates from the elements but nurtures the very thoughts we’re running from. Legs turn to lead and my pace begins to slow. I focus on my breathing, like they asked me. Except my breathing is clipped, abrasive and sharp. I am giving intense attention to my own shortness. The oxygen is being constrained in a panicked vice which cuts off the air supply to my legs. I yell into the vacuum. The abyss yells back into me in silence. Hollowed out, a nocturnal husk, useless to everyone except those who wish to perpetuate the prescription.
The train pulls into the station and the descent turns to a stillness. A stop marked in time by the calamine of slowing breath and calming heart. We watch from inside as we pull away and they’re still on the platform. No longer waving. No longer drowning. Wrapped in the armored blanket which still sought to protect, which we would never see again. We do not know which one of us has written the ending. The crisp evening air bites down hard once the rush of the last carriage has gone. Traveling without moving. We are still falling.
