Meditation In Hell

As I sat there with my back against the wall and my legs crossed loosely, I let myself relax. My chest jutted out as my head slides down the wall, putting my neck in a vulnerable position. No doubt very awkward looking, but my body is relaxed nevertheless. I hear the mans deep voice play over the scratchy speakers of my laptop, but i do not listen to the words he is saying. I feel my heart beating fast, most likely from the caffeinated pills I took to numb the pain in my lower abdomen, alongside with the Pepsi’s I’ve been drinking nonstop since yesterday. It could also be stress causing my heart rate to quicken, depression to worsen, and my aspiration to drop to the bottom of the ocean. I sit in one of my grandmas cramped guest bedrooms my family has been living in since July and I let the room open up. Watching as the too-big furniture slides down into the floor, disappearing into the abyss below. Soon it is only me in the room, still in a vulnerable position with my back against the wall. I still feel my heart beating just a little to fast, but that’s it. I no longer feel the wall behind my back or the carpet scratching my bare feet, I don’t know if I feel like I’m floating to the top or sinking to the bottom. The sound of the 30-year-old air-conditioner hums loudly around me, but I quickly block the noise out, just like the man’s voice. The smell is the hardest thing to ignore. A putrid smell wafts around me, making me want to vomit. It smells of cow manure and perfume, always faintly around the house; something you can only get used to if you live on a farm or your grandma has IBS. I picture myself laying in a meadow, with honeysuckle and magnolia trees all around, but the smell is still faintly there. I can feel the suns warmth caressing my olive-toned skin, the grass tickling the back of my neck, and the wind tousleing my golden brown hair. For a moment that’sĀ all I can feel, along with the smile playing at the edges of my thin lips. I am relaxed and content, with a feeling that everything will be okay. When I realize the mans voice has stopped, I open my eyes and I am once again in the cramped room with the putrid smell and too-big furniture.

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