It all stops. Breathing stops, your heart stops, the pulse in your veins stop, the crickets stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, the trees stop whispering- the earth stops spinning. It's all kinda beautiful in that terrifying moment. In that brief moment when everything is paused and the world stops with you find that you miss it.
You miss it and you want it back.
You want the world to start up again. 'Cause this time- this time you won't ignore it. That's what you tell yourself. That's what you tell the god you've never believed in. Just one more chance- just one.
The world is still suspended.
Sounds, colors, feeling, telephones, the magma in the mountains- everything is on hold.
A moment longer and the world keeps stopping- it's not moving.
The fucking world is still on hold. That fucking god is not listening. The fucking wind is not blowing.
You miss it all so much more.
The constant blare of horns, the litter blowing down the streets, dogs howling out a greeting, the smell of moldy bread.
Now you are angry and hurt.
Gods ignoring you, the fucker is ignoring you.
Why is he ignoring you? It wasn't like you did anything to deserve this- you stole a pack of gum when you were eleven but that kind of shit doesn't count.
But now you are over it. 'Cause calling god a fucker isn't going to get you into his good graces. Besides you liked the earth when it moved. You liked it when you could distinguish blueberry muffins from park benches. You don't want to give that up- not the morning breath or the man in the elevator that stands too close for comfort or the color orange- not any of it.
Now you are gonna compromise.
Maybe you'll go to church more.
Maybe you'll become a Buddhist and invest in one of those Zen gardens everyone is talking about.
Maybe you'll start wearing a turban and praying on a carpet.
It doesn't matter what- you'll do it. You will fucking do it.
But God doesn't answer.
No cosmic rays or haloed light to signal that God heard. Not even fucking smiting.
The world is still not moving.
And that's just fucking depressing and unfair.
Now you know all the things that you are gonna miss. Now you can name all of them. Now you can recall all the little imperfections and memories each of those brought.
And that's just fucking sad.
Now your eyes are showing it. Now your throat is choking up. Now you can't speak. You can't scream.
You can only feel the tears run down your cheeks.
And the world starts spinning again.
It all comes rushing back. The blood in your head. The breath in your lungs. The bum in the street. Something is roaring in your ears, something is spiking your blood.
Now your limbs are shaking.
Everything is just too real.
Your skin is too sensitive. You can feel the dumpster cutting into your back, the weight of the coat on your shoulders. You can smell the piss on the sidewalks and the tar on the streets. You can see the metal barrel of the thing that will kill you if you scream.
Just don't scream.
God is forgotten- you've got this.
You can handle your our own fucking voice box.
Just don't scream.
Then the barrels gone, the metal is off your cheek. The spot it pressed leaves a burning invisible impression.
But now you're okay. Everything is okay.
Now the shadowed man is gone. Now his garlic breath isn't burning your nose hairs.
Now your purse is gone- but that's okay. He'll just get three dollars, eye-liner and your rapidly mounting student loan debt.
Ha- fucking bastard. Take that.
Now it's gone and you're okay- you are perfectly fine.
You can still feel the burn on your cheek- but it'll be okay. 'Cause you're okay- completely okay.
You didn't even piss yourself.