Falling Slowly, Once
And then again, there are times when you come crashing back down to Earth.
The panic that rises in your chest and throat as your world starts crumbling around you. You clutch at it, trying to salvage whatever you can, but you know that there’s not really much chance. I’m not sure which is worse: the sudden realisation of something horrific, or the slow falling which follows. When you have time to think, panic, appreciate what you’re losing.
Music relaxes me: I can lose myself in another character. Regardless of what I’m thinking, if I become somebody else, then it won’t matter. Because it’s not my life that i’m losing anymore. So I move on, become a new person and leave the past behind. It goes in a box. A box that a Doctor once told was kind of healthy for me. So long as I didn’t open it. So that’s the one thing I carry with me, through all my lives: my Pandora’s Box.
Ha: writing this is making me think of something I enjoy very much. But I’m a Box in a Madman.