Panic (Prose?)

To panic is to slip downwards, and begin falling towards oblivion. The air is taken from your lungs and you can no longer think in anything resembling coherence.

One’s hands reach out, grabbing, grabbing for something they can hold on too and stop the fall. They, however, whether regrettably or luckily, can not find anything to slow their descent into the abyss. The wall is cold, and one’s hands are met with the feeling of slick ice. As one’s finger brush the ice, they know at that moment that there is nothing that can stop their fall. Some may call this hopelessness, but I prefer to call it by its true name: Enlightenment.

As soon as one realizes there is no escape, the sooner they can accept their fate and no longer will they need to panic. They will float to the bottom of the abyss as peaceful as Hindu cows.

While some may connect the bottom of the Abyss with negative thoughts, (IE “Rock bottom”) this is an untrue association. In reaching the bottom, one has been disconnected from society, from all previous thought of conformity, of the masses, and of the consumer world of K-Mart and the mall.

One is now free.

This is the beauty of panic.