Everything was a zero. My vision, my sense of hearing. All black and silent. An empty, numb mind, not sure if the world is still where it’s supposed to be.
Then a one. The return of sensations. The tightness in my chest, the pulsing pain in my head. A noticeable lack of air, just as I needed it most.
Which brings us to two. Exerting force to gain some sort of control over the physical realm. Demanding myself to breathe faster in the hopes that my lung movements would magically bring the air I so needed into existence. My palms pressing the sides of my head, attempting to outpressure whatever explosion is cooking up in my brain.
Three flows in with the tears in my eyes as my body struggles to comprehend. As consciousness trickles in, the thought of my ongoing pain screams itself to every molecule that deigns to call itself a part of me. A sense of duration, and a desperation for the end, grip the remnants of sanity.
We inch closer to four, too slow to handle, too fast to keep up with. Everything seems so wobbly, going in and out of focus. Sight and hearing are all a blur of each other. I was never good at surfing. And somehow here I am dropped in the middle of the sea, having to navigate wave after wave of emotions.
And all we are left with is five. Utter, complete exhaustion, taking over my being. My clothes are sweat drenched, and the world is still with derisive anticipation. It was there all along, an audience to the numbers game. It’s Monday tomorrow. They shuffle out of their seats.