familiar

My fingers are wrapped firmly around the base of the paint brush, I squat down and dip it back into the paint once again, I’m on repeat, I stand back up and ready myself to climb the stool and cover the next wooden panel carefully. I can feel my vision narrowing, black spots expanding temporarily. I’m dizzy, maybe thirsty? Maybe just tired. I’m in a mode where I should rest, but I can’t stop moving. It doesn’t concern me much, I’m used to this. It’s a familiar feeling. My heart beating a bit harder, my breath slightly shallow.

But then suddenly something else creeps up on me. It’s familiar as well, but I haven’t felt it in so long it immediately shakes me up. How long has it been, old friend?
Everything I do feels rushed, I have to concentrate hard on slowing down. But my mind starts to tingle when it perceives my every move in slow motion.

The loudness of voices all at once, an ominous warning that something terrible has happened. “Everything is fine,” I remind myself. “I’m okay.”
I’m slipping, everything feels broken, everything feels like it’s falling apart, nothing will ever be right again, the world is on fire and there’s an urgency and feeling of helplessness because I’m just standing here in the hallway holding a paint brush.

“I’m okay,” I repeat to myself, shaking my head and taking in deep breaths of air.

Was that how to do it?

A drop of cold paint slowly bled through my sock. I’m okay.