Lifeline

I'm reaching out, about to catch you. The room is hot, filled with people. The music is loud and sweaty bodies are jumping in unison around me. I'm pushed and pulled from one side to the other. Where are you? I see you out of the corner of my eye, but as I turn, you're gone. God, it's so hot. But there's no-one else here I know. The flashing lights, the grabbing hands. It's becoming too much. I need you...

--

I wake up in a burning hot room. I throw off my duvet and shakily try to get myself together. I'm sweating.

I switch on a dim bulb and throw open the window. In the bathroom, the cool water is my only source of comfort. My reflection is not. I hate the person I've become. I used to be strong. I used to know who I am. But I'm pathetic.

And I'm a liar, a first-class liar.

I'm trapped. The closer I get to admitting it, day by day, the more suffocated I feel. The walls seem to be edging together. A wave of nausea takes over and I know it- that's it. Something has to change.

I pick up my phone. I go through the list of the names... I know these people. But they are not my people. I'm starting to panic. There has to be someone...

--

You're waiting for me. We barely know each other at all.

Smoke curls out of your cigarette as you let out your breath. Your eyes have a hint of amber in them. There's something we have in common.

You listen to me as I talk. About superficial things at first. Shaky, trying to find my ground. You know that's not why I'm here, or why you are either.

As the story finally unwinds, your stony exterior softens- but only slightly. I've made you uncomfortable. But now I know you care, and as you open your mouth for the first time to tell me what you think, I know that I will do as you say. You are going to pull me through.

--

Sometimes it feels like the decisions we make, the ones that affect the rest of our lives, aren't really choices. Sometimes it feels like every tiny detail of our past is what led up to them. In that case, do we really have control over anything?

I've become a floater. The anchor that kept me grounded is gone. Anchor, shackles- is there a difference? I don't know.

I throw down my smoke into the grass and step on it. Look up at the sky and smile. So blue, I have never seen it like this. A few puffy clouds and the sun in beating down on me.

I start to run through the park. I start off slow, but soon I gain momentum. Faster and faster, the trees racing past me, the lawns greener than green. I see the music and take off...

I run along the clouds, and they belong to me.