Panic and Fear. Fear and Panic

The bathroom floor freezes with the granite sparkling from being freshly washed. My hands rub the floor, shiny and fresh. I don’t dare look up from the random flooring. My eyes stay glued to the solid ground, jumping from one orange spot to another as an attempt to calm myself. Despite my blurred vision the orange dots stand out. My heart slows but only for a few short moments. I want to look up, stare myself down in the mirror and not let go of my own stare. Force this panic back down into the depths it crawled out of. Force my ribs to let go of my lungs and let them breath. I don’t do that though. I never can. I want the courage to do so, I want to be flooded with relief when I look in any mirror, however, I never am. Only fear comes from mirrors. Fear and panic.

I have had like two panic attacks in my life, but I find them very fun to write.