Being normal

Sometimes you'll hear it calling quietly. But you've got pretty good at ignoring it now. You know, that thing. The thing you've masked cleverly with ordinary life such as trips to the supermarket, paying your rent on time and remembering your Mum's birthday. But you can't ignore it all the time. Sometimes it's cleverer than you. You'll be going about your ordinary life, perhaps washing up, watching your favourite television programme or having a cup of coffee with friends, when something reminds you... bam! The world around you slows down, people's voices sound distorted until all you can hear is a hum, because suddenly, like a slap in the face you are brought up close and personal with that thing that hurt you the most. You pause for a moment staring it in the face, pretending you're brave and willing it to go back down. There's that dry, hot taste of nausea in your mouth. You're paralysed, torn between waiting for something to happen and a useless attempt to suppress it. But it's too late. A flash of pictures play out like an old fashioned film reel, flickering in front of your eyes, your heart fluttering in flight or fight palpitations. Here it comes. You get hot around the collar, your throat resists as you push whatever it is that wants to escape you, right back down where it belongs. It's not going away. It's coming to get you. You feel it creeping up your oesophagus like an army of tiny marching ants, determinedly tickling at your control - letting you know for damn sure, that you are not in control of this anymore. You swallow, your bottom lip drops and your forehead knots. They're surely coming, they've stopped their marching, and now all bunching together to create a tactical lump which builds up momentum in your throat. Your throat feels huge. Your stomach drops as if you're falling vertically on a rollercoaster before it surges up again. Don't be silly, you cant stop them now... It's only a matter of time before you explode, showering all those about you with you-just-don't-know-what. You're hanging on the edge, knowing that whatever happens it's going to be released. Those around you might not have a clue, but if they did - they'd hold their breath. This time, it could be those big, fat tears that soak your eyelashes until they stick together, cutting through your face, creating little pools of salty water in the dip above your collar bone. An exhaling breath that feels like your last, pinning your shoulders and making you feel as if you could plummet to the very core of the Earth upon their weight. At the very worst it might be a fit of rage that vibrates every little particle of your being, turning your blood hot and making your hands itch, so you forget just who you are and what you were doing...


 Shudder.


And in just a moment it could be over. And you can go back to being normal; making his tea, flicking over to another channel or talking about what you'll wear to her wedding next Saturday.