like second sight, i said. right? isn't that what i said? but it doesn't work that way, so cleanly, simply, so revealing of the truth. it only works in quiet, obscure ways.

early in the day you think of the day you experienced the most physical pain you ever have and think this of no consequence since that day you met the girl who is currently visiting you

you and your boyfriend and your friends are stoned and you do not notice the intensity building up--scratch, you do notice, but in positive ways that make you look at your boyfriend with new eyes and the feeling of his hands circling your arms feels entirely different and wonderful and yet, the same, in the way that it was all new and exciting before it came comfortable

you do not notice the intensity building up as though it were moving in the same way as whatever does to cause a person to behave in this manner

you think it's funny your boyfriend acknowledges you sitting pensive in a corner, leaning against pillows and coincidences have you sitting up next to him, even and balanced with him, as he is handing you the water you brought him previously, the water he'd forgotten he asked for, or agreed to when you asked him if he wanted it

and that is one of the last things you remember before it happened, though you remember most of it clearly, how it happened very strangely, how you realize you are a bit too far off your head just as it becomes too late, your boyfriend is disappearing out of your vision and it feels like there is something invisible between you, blocking you from seeing him and someone says something about the ghost in the house and that makes you laugh, but also makes you cry

and someone says something about you cracking up, and everything's fine you're thinking, so you stop the tears to tell them what's really going on, but suddenly you can't talk and are just trying to tell them now to move on, to say everything's okay and stop looking strangely at you

but now it's out of your control, it rushes up to you like a horrible friend and grips your chest, you don't remember how you got from crying to this awful feeling that, while in it, trying to rationalize it, you will describe as glass crashing, possibly as number signs, definitely like static electricity, but in the beginning, before it becomes the spidery lines in the cracked glass, you will think you are dying. you will think 'this is it. this is how i end up in the hospital'. your boyfriend is shouting about whether or not to call 911, as you might have told him to, as you might then say 'yes' in response to his question, you try to ascertain if you are having a heartattack

but your left arm doesn't feel like they describe it, it's definitely not numb, in your wrist where'd you'd cut if you were that type of person, it feels like your pulse is trying to get out, it feels the same way in your chest, like your blood is trying to come out of your veins and your veins are poking through your chest and your wrist and you really think you actually might explode, and how horrible that would be for the people around you who are trying to calm you down

and you're calling their names

and reaching out for arms

and clawing at your chest

and when you finally cry again and calm down, you realize you probably weren't breathing, that maybe that's what it feels like to suffocate or drown

and you never want to feel it again

but you have to squash it back down a few more times before the night is over

and scare your friends

and yourself

and remember you have medicine for this sort of thing that you recently stopped taking and were supposed to ween yourself off

but doubt that was what caused the swell

you wonder what did cause the swell

later you are wrapped safe in your boyfriends arms and you cry on his shoulder while you sit on his lap

you think about what you having been giving up

and what you have been trading it for

you lay in his arms under the comforter you bought, the one that is purple because he let you talk him into it

and you think about how he really loves you

and how it's so much easier to talk yourself out of it

the next day you wake up feeling fresh and yet traumatized, your chest hurts if you barely touch it and you're not sure if something really was wrong or you were just trying to claw into yourself or out

you spend your sunday sleeping and watching movies

and probably not drinking enough water

and those number signs show themselves in a tiny typeface, floating, cursing somewhere beneath your chest, where you will never try to dig them out again

and hope they won't be there by this time tomorrow