25 Apr 2007 21:59

so i'm sitting here writing the boring report of dullness
not far to go i keep telling myself
not too much further

and i look up to see that it's half nine.
in the holidays the studios close at 8:30
they lock the studios at 9

and here i am in the library .
my coat
my bag
my door keys
all in the studio

so i run out of the library and into the corridor
all the lights are off
but i don't stop to find the switches
i know this corridor
dark or light
i use it ten times day

and then i come up against a locked door
so i run back the way I've come
suddenly the dark is oppressive
i cant tell how far Ive come
I'm panicking
I'm still running
my chest tightens
i notice the wheeze on my breath
by the time i get up to the security desk I'm rasping
i can hardly speak to explain myself
keys, i manage, in the studio
and my inhaler, i add
as my throat contracts
i know i have to calm down

the guard calls the one locking up my corridor on the radio
he asks him where he is
then takes me down to meet him

i recognise him
from last time i did this
i worry that he recognises me
i cant catch my breath
but I'm apologising over and over

we have to go round the long way
my chest is heaving
my breath is burning
by the time we get through all the locked doors
I'm desperate
I'm on my knees in front of my locker
ripping at my bag
junk rolling out onto the floor
lip balm, lighter, polos,

the world's is narrowing around the edges
darkening

finally my inhaler
i usually hate this thing
but the panic is rising and I'm so glad to clutch it in my hand

first attempt fails
something's stuck in the nozzle
clearing it seems to take years
and then i get a clear blast
and it begins to recede
the world opens out again

my hands are shaking from the salbutamol
my knees are weak from the adrenalin
my vision hazy from the lack of oxygen

I've made it all the way back to the library
but strangely i don't feel like doing any more work on my report.....