the noise is like an everlasting whirlpool. the words and even the punctuation swirling around and around and around and around in my head until it switches to another whirlpool. of other words, or songs, or noises. just an endless swirling of things, twisting and turning, never emptying. itâs like when you were a kid in the tub and you tried desperately, so desperately to start one. and your hand is going and going and going, your finger cramping, just to see if you can do it. if you finally got the technique down. and eventually sure, one comes up. and by the time it does, that sense of accomplishment feels earned. youâve got one. now you can get out of the tub and move on. your fingers and toes are wrinkly and the bathwater is getting cold. all the bubbles are gone. that was the one thing holding you there. but these whirlpools are consuming. my brain throbs with the words. echoing as it swirls around, changing as i start to forget what was said. maybe thatâs not what they said? maybe they meant something else? what else? shift. a song lyric, just one, over and over and over and over. it hurts sometimes. it hurts to be reminded of a whirlpool. my throat gets tight and my head starts to hurt. its worse when iâm alone. when iâm alone it continues for hours and hours and sometimes they overlap. the distorted noise in my head gets louder and louder and louder until i have to move. i have to shower, or cook, or look at something, listen to something, write something. something to distract from all the noise. but it canât be silent. there has to be more noise, or it gets louder and louder and i canât think, i canât breathe, it crowds everything else.
the whirlpools are never happy. theyâre hurtful things. the song is never pleasant. the words cut and slice. when the whirlpools get to be too much, i canât help but sob. they drag it out of my chest, they squeeze tears from my eyes. and then they continue. then they keep going. even as my nose gets red, my chest gets tight, my eyes droop from the strain of being open. as my body tightens and tightens and tightens until another sob is brought on. like a rubber band that wonât stop being pulled and snapped back togehter. each snap hurts more than the last. each snap makes everything harder and harder. it never loses itâs elasticity. it never breaks. it just keeps pulling and snapping. pulling and snapping as my mind is thrown around in circles. the words going faster and faster and faster until iâm dizzy and disoriented.
and then suddenly it stops. it shuts off and iâm left shaking. breathless. like iâve been punched in the stomach and kicked and kicked and kicked and kicked and suddenly theyâre gone. itâs gone. and thereâs no time to be grateful, because in an hour or two itâll be back. iâll be caught in the whirlpool and dragged through the water harder. though sometimes it doesnât feel like water. it feels like wet concrete. drying wet concrete. and iâm being dragged through it and thereâs barely any time to come up for air.
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