Are you okay?*
he asked, worried about poor, poor Rach.
I smiled, nodded, and tried to get back to work.
But, no, I wasn't okay.
I was having yet another attack,
the kind that
makes your breathing heavy and
your palms sweating.
the kind that
makes you so afraid to move
because of the thoughts you think that
should be imaginable,
eh?

Well,
take a wild ride into my mind
and you'll understand that it happens
to me almost everyday.