Sport's commentary of a panic attack. 2002-08-13

The world always intrudes. I feel... everything. All at once. Pressing in until I can't breathe. Sometimes I stop. Breathing. It's like I can't remember how.

And my heartbeat gets very loud.

And then the shaking begins. Almost like an itch. But you don't know where to scratch.

And the pressure seeps inside you and closes around your spine like a fist.

And it hurts so bad. You begin to cry, but not from pain. Not from your pain. The entire world has closed around your spine and it's the world's pain that makes you sob.

And you get so angry. Angry at the pain in the world. Angry at the world for giving you its pain. Angry at yourself for not being able to do anything about it.

And then you are afraid. Because you feel so helpless.

And alone. An entire crowd of people surround you, wondering if you are alright, and you feel alone.

It makes you laugh at the contradiction. You know you're hysterical at that point, but it only makes you laugh harder.

And that makes you cry again.

Over and over. Crying, and angry, and afraid, and laughing. And the world, still closed around you spine, begins to shake, and you start shaking with it.

And you keep shaking until the world releases its hold on you spine and you are able to relax.

And that's when things are at their most tragic.