Have you ever just been sitting in a room, maybe alone or with people who claim to love you and you them, and you just feel the air disappear? You know you’re breathing but there has been a palpable shift in something; in pressure or density, that it just feels like the air has gone. You don’t do anything, because what can you do? And you start to think that, that air was your connection to your surroundings, to these people, because suddenly everything gets softer, and it gets progressively harder to hear. You try for a while, strain your ears, try to concentrate on their mouths moving, infer from their body language and hand gestures. It doesn’t work. You’re in an empty room now. No one has paid attention to you in a while, no one has noticed anything change – how you seemed to struggle to keep up with the conversation, how you gave up trying, and how you now seem like an idling car; the engine is on, motor is running, but no one at the wheel. Idle, in an empty room. Then, the images you see start to blur. For a moment, it’s all like a beautiful piece of bokeh art in motion. Only for a moment. The colours and shapes just fall in on each other until there is just black in front of and all around you. You sort of register what happens, I mean you see it, but it doesn’t quite seem to hit home. That idling brain. Where did the world go? Where did you go?
When you finally do reanimate, it isn’t as it was maybe 5 minutes (or 5 years) ago. Your brain, your body, it all becomes slow. Like there is a viscosity making everything heavier. And beyond you, that space envelops you somehow, always separating you. Making you feel inches from everyone but a world apart. All you want to do is ask for help, tell them you’re in trouble, but all you are convinced you can do is remain silent.
Of course, this all just happens in your head. Isn’t that enough?