It’s like you’re a minute away from going on stage to perform to save your life. You’re hyperventilating and somehow it also hurts to breathe, you’re sweating, panicking, shaking, your heart is racing and your chest feels like it’s about to explode.
Now take that feeling and live with it every single day. You can’t focus on anything, you can’t eat because you’re always nauseous, you can barely breathe, and you are constantly waiting for the show to start, but it never does. That minute stretches on for days, weeks, months. There is no show, but you are always waiting for it to start, so that you can sing for your life.
You’re whole life is a joke without a punchline and you are left hanging, hopelessly anticipating something that will never come. All you can do with your time is find new creative ways to describe the pain: like trying to scream without a mouth, like walking barefoot on the burning hot reminders of your every mistake, like swimming with cement blocks on your feet, like staying grounded in negative gravity, like every regret is a nail in your brain, like living but without her. Just something to pass the time until the show starts.