Fighting The Spinning Room

[Nostalgiascape]

Part One

He sat in the creaking wooden chair. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon sneaking in from beyond the translucent curtains. He sat there in battle. He was in battle with his mind. And there were no spectators. There were no cheers for this fight. There would be no glory. Alone, on a mid winters night, the only prize for victory would be self composure, moreover..sanity.

His legs were stretched out in futile desperation. His hands clinched his medium length hair which was drenched in sweat, despite the cold air in the room. No phone. He would not allow himself to try and desperately reach out to others. It wouldn't matter. They could not help. No matter they said to him, they could never convince him that it was all in his head. He had to convince himself. He had to fight. After days of no eating, and little rest, he was not fit for a confrontation with the ills of his mind. But it was now or never. He would no longer run. That wasn't an option. Dying might be an option. Slipping intro the Abyss an option. But running was not an option. Not anymore.

On fell the darkness upon him. All of his fears filled the room like swirling ghosts. Panic set in, eating away at whatever nutrients he may have had left in him.