i tremble before You as my knees hit the tile and my vision flickers out.
i cannot see and i cannot hear and my body is curling in on itself
and i pray that everything will be okay and that i won’t black out on this bathroom floor.
i grip the toilet seat and i am engulfed in nothingness, wrapped in black wool,
and a voice calls out from far away; i focus everything i have on hearing it.
(if you’re still able to hear, you can’t be dead yet.)
i can’t speak. but i listen to the voice and nod against the plastic and porcelain and try not to heave up stomach acid.
i cling to my consciousness and i count backwards and forwards in my head and
there You are and everything is tinted blue and i look at myself and i am pale and new
and it is the most terrifying thing i’ve ever seen.