It starts like this...
An uncomfortable pressure on your temples, spreading across your forehead.
Your eyes no longer belong to you. They are foreign organs jittering. Picking up changes in lighting, movement, responding to the sharp crescendos of rustling paper bags carried by the wind.
Sounds are claustrophobic. Laughs from miles away appear behind, chains among fences pound at your heart.
Your eyelids ache, your eyes, ever so sensitive beg to remain open. They have to see.
First movements are quick.
Your body reacts to stimuli, receiving them all at once. Quick. Foreign. Confusing. Overwhelming.
Each altercation with your mind more stupendous than the last. All at once.
Then
s l o w l y.
The floor gives way. Thick muck covers your soles, gluing you to the surface. Each step stuck to the floor, keeping you from an advance.
It's loud.
It's hot.
It's chaos.
It's defeat.
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