Take a Deep Breath

Jumping someone else’s dream.

I wake in good time for work. I have slept well, untroubled by the demons that usually plague my nights, but my days are filled with a throat-crushing fear. My heart constantly pumps 10 bpms above average, my hands tremble; there is a buzz, a hum running through my every fibre. I feel like I’m living over a subway tunnel.
It could be because I’ve cut down on the drinking, but the withdrawal effects would have subsided long ago. Anyway, I never drank that much. Maybe it’s work, yet I’ve coped with worse situations and not felt this way. A friend of mine said it was because I didn’t wank often enough. How often are you supposed to do it?
Everything sets me on edge. My parents stress me out, crowds in town stress me out, idiots on TV stress me out. I can’t have a simple conversation without something the other person says, some small thing, an example of which I can’t even remember, scraping down the outside of my brain like fingernails on a blackboard. But I keep it all inside and that could be the problem, I’ll grant you – but I don’t think it is.
I’m thinking about seeing my doctor, I should see my doctor. But I know he won’t be able to do anything for me, that there is no drug he can proscribe to rid me of these symptoms. You see, I think I know what’s causing this: as I said, the dreams have stopped