Never let me go

in #creative7 years ago

pexels-photo-573262.jpeg

I am standing before two yellow eyes, their gazes locked firmly on me, staring deep into my depths, imploring my mind with such strength that I feel myself get lost within their hypnosis, drawn in completely. I feel the strength of the gaze overwhelm me, griping deep within me, encircling and crushing me, tearing at the foundations of my reality, further still enclosing in on my heart with building pressure, that I am not sure if I can withstand. Gripping, harder, breathless, making me aware of all my acute senses, I feel sweat beads travelling up instead of down my spine. I feel my pupils though locked in the entrance dilate and constrict. The intensity is so strong, my heart is barely beating, my breath still. A slow ringing begins in my ears, as the yellow eyes delve deeper and deeper, stare harder and more focused. Then there is an explosion of white light, followed by white noise which develops into an intense high pitched ring, and then there it is almost completely missed in the chaos “never let me go”.

I bolt upright, chocking on my breaths gasping, screaming soundlessly, clawing and writhing out of desperation for the pain and breathlessness to stop. My mind is a whirl of panic, my fight or flight instincts kicked in to gear, yet I am helpless to do either. All I can do is surrender to the paralytic fit I’ve been succumbed to, “never let me go” it’s the words; I can hear it so loud and so clear, haunting me, echoing in mind and around me. “Never let me go” I am drowning out of water, like a fish out of there natural surroundings. “Never let me go”. A burning pain develops in my lungs burning me from within, and spreading to my extremities. My body pulsating from the pain, I need oxygen. Then there is nothing but blackness, nothing but blackness and the words “never let me go”.

“How often are you having your reoccurring dream now?” The man in the typical brown leather couch implores me to answer again.
“Every time I close my eyes” I whisper, my throat swollen from my episodes that a whisper is all I can manage. “Although dream is not the adjective I would use”.
“I know it can seem hard to talk about these things. But it is so important that we discover the trigger” the man pauses, shifts in his seat. Lifting his top crossed leg and swapping it over for the other. “I’m sure you realise by now the impact your current state is having on your wellbeing. I don’t think I need to remind you again of the time restriction we have here. I- we all are worried for your wellbeing and as the doctors have explained to you, there is only so much stress your heart can undergo before the matter becomes much more – lets says serious, as I don’t want to alarm you.”
All I can do is nod my head, I am so tired of these sessions, nothings is working, and no one is helping. I am struggling to fight the gnawing thoughts that I will ever recover from this, from the episodes. I know I’m supposed to be working on calming techniques, but how can anyone be calm with this amount of thoughts racing through their mind. Especially when at least half the thoughts are not mine, and I have no idea of their origin or their owner.
“I’m just tired” is what I manage to make out, but really I am thinking I don’t want to bother you with this anymore, it’s too exhausting having someone listen to you but never really understand you. It’s exhausting not understanding any of this.

Just a little snippet of some creative writing I am working on. I would really love and highly appreciate any feedback, thanks.

Blossom.

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