Transcendence

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It’s happening again.

The tingling at the back of my neck, the disconnect I feel from everything around me, the tiny beads of cold sweat on my forehead—as soon as I recognize the symptoms, I know I’m in trouble. I look down at my feet as I follow Kat from the Tower Hill tube station into the bright sunlight, trying to focus on my shoes as they keep time along the immaculate sidewalk. Except they don’t feel like a part of me anymore. They seem far away, like they’re someone else’s size-six blue plaid Vans.

I pull the headphones from my ears, the soaring Massenet symphony becoming a distant squawk as my heart pounds and every hair stands on end. Shaking my head, I try to stop the inevitable, to pull myself back from wherever I’m going this time. I can struggle for control all I want, but I still feel myself slipping away. I barely have time to catch my breath as the waves of images and emotions crash over me, engulfing and then obliterating everything else.

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