Swelling.

Do you ever feel like your eardrums are going to swell up and close due to the layerings of different noises? Individually uninteresting, the rustle of flipped pages and the sound of keys dropping on a wet sidewalk, yet when pulled together, and added to a droning voice, leg readjustments, yawns and whistles, there are so many individual pieces of information that I find it hard to detangle myself from the noise. This swell I find so disconcerting puts me on the edge of my heart beat, one falter from my precarious perch could send me into all sorts of strife. It makes you feel nauseous, when your heart seems to fill your chest, brimming with an unknown uncertainty, an inconstistancy of your usual thought that you just can't place.

You feel like you can hear every movement ever made. Your hearts breaking through your chest, swelling and teaming and writhing to free itself from every one of your pores. Your arms feel heavy, a solidified and clumping weight filling from your finger tips up. Eyelids are rigid, set in a half-open stupour as you try and seperate yourself from your weight. A tension fills your throat and finds the brunt of the attack shunted backwards, a longing to say something burning and pressing and wishing it's way into existance, but never through the lips. Only the eyes.

I feel inflated. But less positive.