Sunday, 29 November 2015

White Noise

My shoulders were hunched as I sat and observed the scene. I think the subtle sound of music in the background was intended to add to the calm ambience, yet it did nothing but heighten the tension to an alarming level. I tried to focus, I really did. But there were too many voices, causing my throat to tighten and a pounding sensation to throb at the core of my body. I wanted to be there, to be in the moment, desperately. But instead, the conversations in my head took control and glimpses of another universe, where I would rather have been, became increasingly vivid.

I glanced up to find the grand chandeliers oscillating, threatening to collapse. And I realised in that moment that I wasn't okay. I tried to blink away the vibrations but it only made them shake with more aggression. The purple and pink lights overhead were bright, too bright, to the point where a sickly notion began to flare within. It was as though my body was there but my soul wasn't. I was still, immobile, numb. My eyes watched the waiters in black uniform, clearing tables with fake smiles stamped upon their faces. I wanted one of them to stop and notice that I wasn't okay, that the ground beneath me was slipping from existence. But no one did. There was simply too much noise; an intimidating, frightening, white noise, as if I were underwater and my senses had been temporarily paralysed.

I came home and smudged my swollen eyes in black and wet my cheeks with tears of self-inflicted pity. And the most terrifying part was that when the sun rose the following day, I felt fine, as if nothing had even happened.


This was just a really honest piece on the roller coaster of emotions that I felt at a charity event. I wanted, or rather needed, to put it down in words for it to make some sense because I guess I'm still trying to understand this anxious and introverted nuance of my personality.

Have you ever felt like this? I'm really interested to hear your thoughts.

{Photo source: Nabsticle}