Panic

No matter she sat in a room full of people; she was as always alone in her thoughts. Listening to speeches and the crowd murmurings, she began to feel the familiar panic welling within. The voices started sounding like a Greek chorus speaking Pig Latin. The air felt thinner as if she were climbing towards a summit. In the rare instances she was addressed, she could nod and offer appropriate platitudes. But the rest of her time was spent trying to breathe and smile.

She glanced at the teeming hordes in their finery and felt like a snail: all slippery and delicate on the inside but housed in a society-approved shell. How long was long enough at this event before she could go home and strip her defenses? She’d rather give up the expensive filet and fancy dress here and eat cookies naked at home.

Picturing the falling cookie crumbs brought her heart back to an acceptable rhythm. She imagined her favorite detective on tv, unravelling mysteries while crumbs fell between her breasts. Realizing a stuffed shirt was addressing her, she nodded and laughed at his silly joke with her mind on the cookies she had baked that morning. The chandeliers seemed to highlight the egos of the room and she wondered if she could find and solve any mysteries here. People and their frippery were certainly a puzzle to her.

Were people really concerned about the so called “winners” of recent reality shows? Were they so delusional they thought a politician’s speech would make any difference? Were they so sure of their status they quoted only recent best selling novels? Where were the artists, the thinkers, the inventors?

She felt bile rising up as she started to fall into a chasm. She was alone again in a large room full of people. No one there knew her or could tell she was in trouble. She could drown in a sea of societal mores.

Then with a start she had a thought: what if there were others here just like her? What if they were hiding their uniqueness under cloaks of respectability? What if others were suffering like she was at that moment, sipping their drug of choice to maintain an almost even keel? How would she ever know? There were no signals. No way of telling what lurked beneath the drones.

Steeling herself with an outward calm, she knew it was almost over. Just a few more handshakes, nods, and empty smiles and she was home free. She felt the confines of her dress’ seams and knew she’d be comfortable in her own skin again soon. With no one but herself to please, she just had to let the clock run out and get home.