PTSD

The entire room is in chaos, but I see the action as if through the blades of a whirring fan. Disjointed and surreal. I want everything to stop, even if just for a moment. To gather my thoughts, to catch my breath. My mind is racing, I pray for it to stop, but things move faster and faster everything becomes a blur, people and problems melting into one another making them all indistinguishable, making me unable to discern reality from my own confusion and personal chaos. “Just stop!” I cry, so loudly that I feel my own echo hit my tear-soaked face. The room of silently reading people look up from their books with utter confusion and I am snapped back to reality.