I feel small. So very small. It’s as if every part of me, even my organs, are shrinking. As I stand at the bus stop, wind whipping against my face, rain threatening from the clouds above, I start to disappear inside my coat, the fabric becoming loose and billowing around me. Come to realise that I can’t feel my feet. Can you usually feel your feet? I try to wiggle my toes to be sure they’re still there, but it seems as if someone else has taken control, is doing it for me. A phantom hand tightens around my throat, then swiftly reaches in and squashes my vocal chords, pulverising them between their fingers. My heart, usually pounding away like a bounding rabbit, withers into a tiny pinprick of red. My lungs compress, fold in on themselves, now shrivelled pink mounds of mush. Passers by don’t give me a second glance, seemingly unaware of my undoing.
“ The life growing inside containing all the same organs I left on the pavement behind me” oh wow
🥹 you are too bloody kind!!! Thank you xxx