Writing the panic out

It feels like a hand is clenching my heart and twisting me from the inside out. My chest is tight, I feel trapped in my own lungs. It hurts but I can seem to pinpoint why anymore. Maybe it’s anger, but the fear and the dread is louder. The painful lump in my throat won’t go down, no matter how many times I try to swallow it. The panic claws at my body. It wants to devour me.
Smoke it out.
Drug it down.
This never lasts though. It cycles, coming and going as it pleases. Each time feeling as painful as the last. It never eases or dulls. The pain is always the same.
Sharp.
Heavy.
But still I fight it. I have to. I don’t want to hide anymore. And above all, I don’t want to be a burden to those I love. It hurts, but I will face it.
I want to breathe again.