False alarm

(TW: Hints that might connect to any of those: physical violence, abuse, suicide, or self-harm)

Saturday, people are shopping all around, carrying colorful bags from multiple brands. Couples chattering, families wandering around, groups of friends filling the air with laughter and talking. They do that in a language you can make sense from the general meaning, but you don't know every single word yet. A woman's strong perfume fills the nostrils of the surrounding people, flowery and pleasant notes like jasmine, Armani's something, but she must have accidentally sprayed it a lot. A guy is trying on a pair of Nike shoes but his socks are smelling, it's warm outside, maybe he walked a lot. The dim sun comes through the cloudy sky to the glass, it's warm but the buildings outside are so grey now. It might rain.

A baby crying in the store, while there is a long line at the tills.

Time slows down, and your eyes become dry. Everyone ignores it, but it doesn’t stop for minutes.

A customer shouting at you for not speaking his language well, pointing his finger in your face. You are just trying to help.

His body reeks of sweat from afar and his breathe of junk food. Your stomach is ready to return everything to the outside world, but you don’t really throw up.

You feel a tremble in your nerves, and agitation is building up.

Your heart rate increases - the blood flows fast in your neck and wrist veins. Your chest is becoming heavy.

An alarm at the exit door makes your ears ring. It’s the cherry on the cake. Amazing.

It doesn’t stop, you see your colleague running with the keys to turn it off. You know from previous times when there was a false alarm, it's not a real emergency.

Just a false alarm, it's nothing. It's fine.

But why does it take so long, it gets louder and louder.

Suddenly you don’t hear anything else, you want to rip your skin with your nails, and your hands are trembling. Your knees feel weak.

This damned alarm does not stop, you can’t hear your own thoughts in your head.

You can’t focus, and you slow down your tasks so that you don't make a mistake. Your body is used to working in pain, but the other things put you off. You can't quite think properly.

Look at your hands now, oh dear. Why can’t you stop trembling?

It’s fine, it’s fine. Breathe in, and out, and continue the transactions for the customers at the tills. It’s fine.

The trembling spreads in your body, why are you afraid? There’s nothing, look. No wolves and no bears. It’s just people, just people. People, ugh.

You say to your colleague from your earpiece to replace you in your post, you need to use the restroom.

Breathe in, breathe out, there you go.

“All is good, I just need to go for a moment.”

Now all clear, you can leave your post for a bit. You look the time, 16.30 okay, you don’t want to take suspiciously long. Ten minutes max, you can say also you went to drink some water after.

You walk fast, nearly run, towards the restroom, almost shoving aside people that stand in your way, you don’t bother to apologise, you are ready to punch someone to continue on your way if needed.

You don't have the energy to make apologies.

You focus your energy to not fall into your pit.

You focus your all on breathing.

You wash your face and look in the mirror, you are like a scared child.

You wash again and scrub your face and hands until they hurt.

Then you feel a bit of relief.

In pain, because it’s familiar.

You make a groan, muffing an internal scream.

You fall to your knees.

You forgot to focus on your breathing, kid.

Such a rookie mistake.

Now your thoughts are spiraling, you are choking.

Like before.

You breathe, breathe.

Why can’t you stop trembling?

Why are you crying on the floor?

You must get up and work.

But you are in another place right now.

You can see everything.

You can hear what you heard.

You can smell the smells of that autumn time.

The leaves, the air, the food you had.

You can feel the dried mud.

You can feel the choke, it’s wrapped around your neck and standing on your chest.

You start beating your chest, you don’t know why.

Breathe, breathe, breathe….

It’s going to be alright.

It’s like you know, you made it so far.

In the hopeless grey days

In the endless busy ones

Whether you're alone or alone

There is this feeling

Of Abyss

An empty pair of eyes

A vague smile

A chilling silence within

It's lurking in the dark urges

For the end

You've come a long way

There's been many heartwarming moments

In this journey

But sometimes they disappear in the cracks of mother Earth

In the pits of Tartara, the legendary prison of the giants

You can hear a last fighting roar;

Some didn't give up

They are still fighting for freedom

Some others are awaiting the end of time

Or for the sweet redemption by Morpheus's grim brother

Whatever comes first

Aias faulted the gods, and he was punished for his arrogance

Surely you must wonder about what your arrogance might have been

The thing that dragged you down this road

Your reason for seeking redemption

The root of your sins

For, surely there must be a reason for all this

Right?

Or are we fools for seeking a reason?

Perhaps we are all fools

Who cares anymore anyways

Only one thing you must know:

Don't look down

Into the cliff, the blade or the poison

Or they will beacon you and bewitch you off of your senses

Don't look down

Your face must look happy

Otherwise, you burden those around you

It's not considerate to seem ungrateful

Otherwise, you bother them

Or make it just awkward

Don't look down

Because the abyss is calling for you

Secretly, little by little

Away from your loved ones

Like an eerie siren's spell

Don't look down,

Or it will forever devour you.

You clench your fists.

You live with it; you carry it always.

But you are strong enough, you are a survivor.

Breathe again, one long minute.

You know the technique. In four seconds, hold four, out four, hold four.

You check your heartbeat on your smartwatch.

It goes down a bit.

Look at the time, oh dear, 16.45, you have to go back right now.

Loud exhale, shake it off.

You get up.

You wash your face.

You fix your hair with your hands.

You force your lips into a smile and put back your mask.

It’s your special battle shield.

Nobody there can know, or they will think you are not up to the task.

You loathe their pity.

You want to do things in your life.

It’s not over yet.

Not yet, it’s not your time.

You are strong enough to take it, you can do it.

And there you go again, you carry on with your day.