I walk in the door Sunday morning at 8:25 AM after being picked up by my mom (yes, my mother) from work. I've only got about an hour worth of sleep from last night running, so I'm easily distracted by a pile of fortune cookies left over on the counter from last nights dinner. I think we had Pick Up Stix.
I sit down, put on Jungles by Holy Fuck, and uninterestedly peel the plastic off, and then crack open the fortune cookie.
I stop, dead in my tracks, just as the tone bank on the track kicks in, as if Holy Fuck has written this particular song specifically knowing that this moment in time would happen--some divine intervention has happened. I stare in shock at the cookie, inspect it a second time, and realize in horror what is happening to me: the fortune cookie is empty. There is no tiny piece of paper with a fortune scrawled on it awaiting me.
Sweat begins to form on my forehead and I can feel hyperventilation coming on slowly. I've learned to deal with panic disorder and anxiety attacks, but all my methods of curbing it are miles away now. A void begins to form near the back of my head--where I can't see it--and everything is drawn to it. Everything is being sucked in slowly around me, and somehow my eyes and mind are still transfixed on the empty sweet. I think I am beginning to drool. What is happening right now? My hands become stiff and cold, and I can't feel them anymore. My limbs become static and I feel like I am dissolving. An unstoppable force has met an immovable object in the universe. I don't even know if I've taken a breath in the past five... ten...? minutes.
Bam.
The drums kick in and I suddenly, alertly snap out of it. My forehead is dry. I can feel my limbs, and my heart rate feels normal when I check my pulse. Holy Fuck delivers once again, and as I regain touch with the music and my own body, I stare down at the fortune cookie and start to breathe again. It's only been a few seconds.
I shove the entire cookie--both pieces--into my mouth like a rabid animal and gobble it down. I've decided that this incident is both insignificant and not worth mentioning to anyone. I become ashamed at my tendency to read into events like these. The cookie tastes stale and sweet.
Stale and sweet, I think... a fitting end.
I sit down, put on Jungles by Holy Fuck, and uninterestedly peel the plastic off, and then crack open the fortune cookie.
I stop, dead in my tracks, just as the tone bank on the track kicks in, as if Holy Fuck has written this particular song specifically knowing that this moment in time would happen--some divine intervention has happened. I stare in shock at the cookie, inspect it a second time, and realize in horror what is happening to me: the fortune cookie is empty. There is no tiny piece of paper with a fortune scrawled on it awaiting me.
Sweat begins to form on my forehead and I can feel hyperventilation coming on slowly. I've learned to deal with panic disorder and anxiety attacks, but all my methods of curbing it are miles away now. A void begins to form near the back of my head--where I can't see it--and everything is drawn to it. Everything is being sucked in slowly around me, and somehow my eyes and mind are still transfixed on the empty sweet. I think I am beginning to drool. What is happening right now? My hands become stiff and cold, and I can't feel them anymore. My limbs become static and I feel like I am dissolving. An unstoppable force has met an immovable object in the universe. I don't even know if I've taken a breath in the past five... ten...? minutes.
Bam.
The drums kick in and I suddenly, alertly snap out of it. My forehead is dry. I can feel my limbs, and my heart rate feels normal when I check my pulse. Holy Fuck delivers once again, and as I regain touch with the music and my own body, I stare down at the fortune cookie and start to breathe again. It's only been a few seconds.
I shove the entire cookie--both pieces--into my mouth like a rabid animal and gobble it down. I've decided that this incident is both insignificant and not worth mentioning to anyone. I become ashamed at my tendency to read into events like these. The cookie tastes stale and sweet.
Stale and sweet, I think... a fitting end.
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