The unreality.

Im dizzy. It feels like my head is a million miles from me feet, perched precariously on my shoulders. I feel like I'm falling, expecting to hit the ground I close my eyes but the impact never comes. Maybe I'm flying instead. Yes, I'm flying, or floating. I don't know, and I'm trying to figure out if I care either way when all of a sudden I'm walking. Slowly, concentrating on moving forward, hunched over I let the racing thoughts in my mind bounce off my back in all directions, trying to hold onto the one that keeps me taking another step. I sway with each movement, drifting aimlessly down the corridor. I can't see clearly. There is a fog in my brain. I can't be sure if this moment is actually happening now or if it was yesterday, or last week, or in five years. It just doesn't feel like now. It feels like the shell of now, as if this space of time simply crawled out and left behind it's skin, like snakes and cicadas do. My eyes won't focus on anything, every movement is slow and cumbersome, such an effort. I move my arm to push open the door but it feels like it's moving through water, or maybe it feels like it is water. And suddenly I'm sitting at a neat little desk in my brain, just behind my eyes, looking out at the enormous world. The desk is crowded with spinning knobs and buttons, with no pattern or order whatsoever. I search fruitlessly for the de-mister button, and then realise that I wouldn't even know what I'm looking for. I press buttons and turn dials trying desperately to control this heavy, lethargic mass that I am unwillingly responsible for. My chest tightens, it's hard to breathe. The walls press in on me from every side, I'm struggling under the crushing weight, dizzy and suffocating in the fog. I push a lever and the body lurches forward, gripping to the bench to stop the world from spinning. I stare out the window at the mirror, searching for my reflection in this enormous vehicle. I stand there for months, or maybe it was only a second, or a day. Searching, waiting. But all I see is black emptiness, filling the eyes that stare back at me from a face I don't even recognise.