Sometimes tears come and they come hard.
You clutch at your throat,
trying desperately to breathe.
Sobs wrack every inhale, your whole body convulsing.
And you find yourself in the middle of a very crowded space, like a train station,
around you is spinning.
Faster and faster they go until it’s all one blur.
All of it.
It’s all there but at the same time,
And you’re taken back to the day you turned five when you were on the carousel
and it was moving
you lost sight of your mom and dad.
And all you wanted to do was get off
but you couldn’t.
Everything went faster and the music grew louder
and you just wanted off more than anything you’d ever wanted in your life
so you squeezed.
You squeezed your eyes shut and your fists closed.
And, in the next instant, mom and dad were there,
holding their hands
out to you,
welcoming you back.
And the illusion breaks.
Your balance breaks
and you crumble to your knees, still gasping for breath,
And all you want is to get off.