The Randomness of Rainbow Phoenix II: Confessions of a One-Legged Violinist

sick

You're sitting on the floor when it happens.

You're just sitting there, kneeling, reading on your tablet, and suddenly it starts; that horrible, terrible pain building in your stomach and bladder. You grit your teeth, try to bear it, and at first it's barely noticeable; a slight tinge in your intestines, nothing more.

But it doesn't go away. It just gets stronger and stronger, more and more horrifying, rumbling in your stomach until your shoulders are shaking and tears leaking out of your eyes from the strength it takes to keep them open. You're gripping the edge of the tablet now, thumb trembling along with your quaking shoulders.

Now you're facing the ground, arched back, curled fingers, every inch of skin shaking with the horrible deadening pain of it all. Your emotions are clouded now, all thought destroyed to make way for one overwhelming reaction:

Terror.

Pure, unquenchable terror, stronger than any conscious thought you can have. You're still reading, but the words become meaningless; you understand them only through your own knowledge of what they mean and not because you're actually reading. Everything is disjointed, everything covered in the fog that is fear, nothing even fucking matters anymore. All that matters is that this agony stops, but you can do nothing to prevent it, only sit hunched over on the floor like a dying beast and hiss through your teeth and pray with what little conscious thought you have left that something, anything, makes this torture end.

It does end.

Slowly, and leaving you still shaking, you regain your thoughts and emotions, existence becomes sharper again, and you just sit there.

You want to run away, but you can't.

This is called a panic attack, aka what happens to me when I get bad nausea. Don't get emetophobia, kids, it sucks ass.

Yes, I just had one, and I felt it was necessary to express my feelings somehow. My stomach still hurts.