With a flick of rolled paper nestled between my fingers, I drew a deep breath but found it to be unsatisfying. My mind felt temporarily sedated, but my soul was unsettled.
That was how I dealt with anything that demanded the highest attention from me. It was never a smooth journey and over the years, it grew worse. I was in search of a substitute, something to channel my overbrimming thoughts and actions. I could not bring myself to face the things that scare me the most in life and I never knew how to handle it all.
What does urgency mean to me? An overwhelming sense of panic; a stabbing moment of anxiety that seems to drag on for hours on end. How do I react to it? I let it consume my very being, draining the life out of me with its toxicity coursing through my veins.
I am completely aware of everything that happens to me, yet I do nothing to stop this restlessness inside me, and I have learned to leave it alone and let it grow. I keep as still as I can, showing no expression or reaction. Neither grimace nor frown could cross my face as it was never allowed to be given away.
It was a calmness that betrayed a decided and inevitable future of calamity. Only calmness could etch a tear down my face, which would remain for many years to come. The actual sense of urgency rises like a colossal tide at the very last moment, an anticipation of the worst outcome of a problem I’m facing.
A shortness of breath. An increased heart rate. A full-blown sensation of throwing myself out the nearest window to escape the present. My body physically reacts to a danger that can only ever be in a state of mind, yet it degrades quickly as though my flesh is being broken open.
There is no escape, yet I grow desperate.
There are no answers, and only time could tell exactly what I needed as a solution.
Things will then soon begin to not make any sense. All my cards are laid on the table, revealing every mistake, flaw, and terrible experience of mine that tri-folds in moments of vulnerability and helplessness.
I am a prisoner of my own mind and had thrown away the key. My very own demons have come home.
I take a final drag of my cigarette. It’s a temporary measure for a temporary point in time where cracks begin forming on the walls of my sanity. What was urgent before can be delayed or better; ignored till it eats me to the core.
I am alright for the time being.
Reflections On The Impermanence Of Life Through The Eyes Of A 25-Year-Old
We Were Meant To Move by Avery De Witt
Build Me A House by Gab Jopillo
Cover image by DSD / Pexels. The copyright of ‘A Sense of Urgency In A Fast-Paced World’ belongs to Avery De Witt.
We accept short stories, poems, opinion pieces, and essays on a complimentary basis.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.