A short thing I wrote on the bus ride home after visiting my parents, just letting my feelings dictate what I scribbled down in the notebook I try to take with me everywhere.
Terror, constricting, limiting. Hands around your throat, a tight band around your chest. A kick in the gut.
It’s a cold hand digging around inside you, freezing you to the spot. Your lungs feel much too small, your windpipe reduced to the width of a straw, wheezing, gasping while all sorts of nightmarish imagery fill your head.
The world around you fades into hues of grey, disappears, melts away into nothingness, leaving only you and the fear that fills you up like water in a glass much too small.
Finally it ends and the relief after terror releases you from its painful grasp is amazing. To be able to breathe again, the pain in your chest fades and the world returns in full color. Once more you feel alive, until the day terror returns to claim you as its victim once again.
All you can do is hope for a day when fear will never return to haunt you, that it will finally leave you in peace.