The last time?

“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.” F. Kafka

The colors around me changed just as my eyes, like a broken camera, stopped the light from coming in although I was still staring at the reflection in the mirror. The grey scale took over the silhouette of the person looking back at me while the eyes started sinking so deep in to its sockets giving me the look of a patient on its death bed after years of fighting. The room got smaller and the air became heavy pressing against my skin like the steam pressing against the walls of a pressure cooker. Sounds disappeared and the only voice that was able to come through, through the soundproof cortisol walls that were rising up with every heart beat that was trying to poke a hole in my chest, was the voice of the demon within. So clear and outspoken, with the confidence of a gambler when he takes another bet just after winning, he speaks to me and with such an ease in the split second convinces me that life is no longer worth living. By repeating only one poor phrase “I can´t” it takes me over the edge of my consciousness and in to the realm of the unconscious, twisted perception of my existence. “I just can´t, no more please, stop! I can´t! Oh please just take me away”… echoes between my ears while the deafening silence in the room dampens the colors in the mirror even more. The tears are rolling down the cheeks so slowly, burning like an acid, but the hands are to heavy to even try to wipe them off. The cheeks can´t bother to twitch, while the mouth, slightly open, welcomes them as if hoping they were poisonous. Time stands still as the body can´t remember how to use the air. The temperature of the pressure cooker rises! Everything is pulsing, pressing, heavy! Breathe!! Suddenly, that high pitched sound of the steam breaking loose breaks the muffled silence: “Breathe! Oh, breathe… “ I can hear my voice calling from the distance: “Just breathe, breathe, in and out, deep, deeper…” the water splashes on my face and the eyes look at me with the unexpected clarity.

With the stare still fixed to the mirror, hypnotized by the sudden clearness in the eyes, big but shaky steps make me leave the restroom. I join my friends laughing at a dinner table in our favorite restaurant. Warm voices of joy embrace me and I slowly drift away, convincing myself somewhere deep inside that this was the last time…

How do you deal? Is it ever gonna be the last time?