Breathless.

Today I wake up and my lungs are playing with me - they tremble in quick motions - gasps of air that hardly catch the oxygen, before letting it go and seizing it again, a kitten toying with a mouse. I get a grip and force myself into deep breaths, in through the nose, holding the air until I release slowly through my mouth. The feeling continues though. A jumpy, twitchy rhythm pulsing through my chest. Even though I now know my breath is controlled the panic of suffocation has gripped me, and I can't shake the feeling that my body is against me. 

Frustratingly my mind has slowed, I can rationalise all this, but that doesn't make it go away. I'm up, dressed and on my way to work as I write, but still this sense has settled, a tingling, a quickening of adrenalin and a weight below my collar bone stays with me. I find myself deep breathing again, as if by dwelling on this I have forgotten, and for a second it subsides, though the ache remains. 

I began writing this to try and see if the writing would give me my usual catharsis, let me understand myself and see through what is happening. And it's working... kind of. I can slow and set myself against the feeling, convince myself it's an anomaly. Some sort of weird confluence between my subconscious and my physical being. But I can't control it completely, and I hate the thought that something's bugging me that I don't understand, that I can't control... 

And maybe that's it right there... 

I'm worried about what may happen, what could be.

It makes sense - after all so much of my life has been an attempt to control the future, to safeguard my fate - and those whom I love - especially them.

So I need to stop for a second. I need to know I love someone very much - and they love me. I need to see the wetness on the pavement, feel the water in the air - the humidity and notice how the world has turned subtle shades of grey in the damp - blotches of stone, tarmac and concrete, wet, dry and in-between; and I need to accept and live in what is now. I need to remember why I started this in the first place.

Breathe.