Ultimatum

I woke up and everything was too loud, too bright, too in my face, too real. I tapped the light switch quick, with one finger. Click. That sound was okay; it was chosen. Everything else was unwelcome. I clicked the bathroom light on, again quick, with one finger. Then the closet light. Click, click. I stood in my closet. I needed to pick out an outfit for school, and soon because I had to leave in 20 minutes. I could see all my clothes. My head knew what shirts went with what pants, but I don’t think my hands did because they didn’t move. What do I wear. What do I wear. What do I wear. What do I wear. What do I wear. I ended up with a teal top and dark plaid pants. My head knew those would work, my hands weren’t sure, but they had no choice but to obey. The mirror that usually told me I looked cute, was too silent today. Too loud, too bright, too in my face, too real, too silent. I spun around and looked again. My head knew I looked pretty, but I don’t think my eyes did. I was ready to go, and my brother took several more minutes. So I sat in the car tapping my foot. Tap. Please, Sam. Tap. I don’t want to be late. Tap tap. Hurry, Sam. Tap tap. I can’t tap be tap tap late tap tap tap tap tap tap.

My head knew it never cared much if I was late, I don’t think my lungs did. They seized up, sounding panicked. I wasn’t scared of being late. I was scared of drowning in my own breath. I would cry the panic pressure away if I could. It sits in my chest waiting to pour out the floodgates. It’s just my luck; the hinges are damaged from being slammed shut one too many times. Slammed shut so I’m not found puffy-eyed, hugging knees to chest in my lights-clicked-off closet. People ask too many questions when they find you like that. Too many questions with not enough answers.

Ultimatum: Lock the Gate and let the pressure fill you up, or unscrew the hinges and let your sanity pour down your face.