Wake up

Ominous music directs the protagonist of a movie to the eerie closet, and the minute she gingerly peels the door open, the power shuts out. The wind races through a woman’s hair as she bounds towards the city bus. She is getting closer and closer, and the minute she pauses to catch her breath, the bus rushes off without her. A student watches the minute hand on the clock as it ticks away, edging closer and closer to the head of the clock. He anticipates both the end of the boring lecture and a chance to quell his raging hunger pangs. But the moment it hits the “12,” he realizes to his utter dismay, that the clock is an hour behind. 

  I most wanted it only when it was obvious that despite my best efforts, I would not emerge victorious. I wanted so desperately to conquer that wretched, tingling sensation that crept up behind me. Moving at a painfully slow pace, it ate my brain alive, infiltrating every crevice of my skull. I stood helplessly until I could no longer stand anymore. I stood until my knees began to quiver, and my eyeballs rolled back in silent surrender.  And as always, I cannot recall the end of this battle. 

  In retrospect, it was much like downing a shot of whiskey. But while the loss of self-awareness is the end goal of most drinking adventures, it is the scariest, most dreaded thought for someone in pre-syncope. I know when I am about to faint-I can feel my head grow heavy and light at the same time. I can feel my body giving up and retracting from the universe, shriveling up into an amorphous puddle of skin and bones. Believe me--it is not the graceful descent of a fairytale princess biting into a poisoned apple. Rather, it’s as ugly as can be. I am fighting, mentally raging at my body, begging desperately for it not to give up. I breathe willfully, and hope that it is just a wave of intense sleepiness, and right when I think I will be okay—it ends. I wake up to bewildered strangers. 

As I regain consciousness I alternate my stares, from my pale,limp body to the frantic faces around me and then back to the seemingly comatose body hanging off my neck. I remember my last thought before the world around me lost all color: what if I don't wake up this time? Is this my last chance? You die, you lose, Shreya. Don’t.