Control

The ball of nerves that weighs heavy in the pit of my stomach won't go away. It's unhealthy, I know it, yet no amount of deep breathing can relax me. I spent the day feeling faint, my stomach twisted in that awful knot that made me wonder for a moment if I wasn't suffering from some form of heartburn. And then the queaziness would seize me, a cold wave washing over me, making my lips quiver at the thought that maybe I was getting ill. But I'm not ill, it's the stress. This phantom threat that lurks within the mind, stretching dark fingers across my whole body, seizing me, twisting my entrails, making me gasp for air at times.

I feel as though I've lost all control over what's happening in my life. Lost in a daze, all I can do is move forward, but I'm petrified at the same time. The knot of nerves in the pit of my stomach spreads further... it tastes like acid at the back of my throat. I take a swig of water to calm the burning sensation. The wave of sickness envelops me whole, making me shake deep from within. I move from my desk at work, pale, thinking I must look ghostly, eyes sunken in their sockets, a livid expression on my lips, but as I reach the elevator I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. I see myself looking just the same. I lean forward, closer to the reflection. There's no one else but me inside that lift. There's a sign in the corner warning of a surveillance camera. I force a grin directed at my own reflection, shuffling my hair in place. How come the awful twisting inside isn't showing on the outside, I wonder to myself. The reflection stares back at me with dead eyes.

I sit back at my desk with some sushi and a small sandwich. I eat the sushi, staring vacantly at my computer screen, watching emails pop up from time to time. I take a bite of the sandwich and feel my stomach contract. I drop the sandwich back on the desk, pushing it away like a sulky child her toy. Before I know it I'm back on my feet throwing the rest away in the bin as my stomach lurches closer to my mouth. But nothing happens, the phantom threat tightens its hold over my whole body as my mind feels about to expire.

I sit back down, willing the ill-ease to go. It doesn't work, it gets worse instead. I blink and realise that time has somehow passed, allowing me another stroll out of the office. Tip-top, tip-top, tip-top is the sound my heels make in my wake as I cross the corridor looking at no one, my gaze fixed on the door ahead. I'm back in the elevator but this time it stops on the next floor and a tall man enters. I throw him a swift glance - he looks familiar. I see a flash of recognition light up his eyes, too, but I can't remember who he is and where I've met him so I look away with tight lips. He's way older than me, maybe 15 years older, but his bright blue eyes strike me in the way he looks at me.
"We met at the conference," he says casually, his eyes laughing as he seems to guess at once I've failed to recognise him.
"Oh -" and at once I remember. I don't know what takes over me but my face lights up with a beaming smile - no, a light chuckle of faint embarassment ending with the smile. He smiles back, but what puzzles me is his gaze on me. He doesn't look afraid of me, nor does he look distant. He looks at me like someone... who likes what he sees. Bright blue eyes that give nothing away, and neither does his smile. I feel something strange course my veins, but I'm not sure what it is. It doesn't feel like the acid I've felt churning in my stomach all day. Finally, the doors open and we both part ways swiftly. I breathe out slowly, relieved in the knowledge I'm unlikely to cross path with him again. I remind myself that I don't like people who make me feel the way he just has because it scares me. But as I sit back at my desk I find myself wondering what darkness could lurk behind those bright blue eyes. I feel myself blush as I realise I'm imagining what he's like in bed. A boring, repetitive type, or an adventurous? Somehow, he looked way too controlled not to be a beast. I know that because I'm always so controlled, yet my thoughts can be darker than night, beastly. I shake my head, willing the thoughts away. I've started a new social experiment and I can't allow my dark, twisted side to take over. The thoughts vanish.

That new experiment involves elevators, believe it or not. Whenever I find myself sharing a lift with the same person more than once, I make eye contact, smile, and then strike up a conversation. It suits my social anxieties because I know the chit-chat cannot last long - only a few seconds, a couple of minutes at best. I can bear that. I can bear it because I know it can't last, and as soon as I reach my floor I can escape.

It's in that way that I've started to finally recognise more people I work with. It's also a memory challenge, for I sometimes forget the faces despite my best efforts, or I'll confuse them. It happened the other day, actually. I kept meeting the same blond guy inside the lift, and then I mistook someone else for him. I went: "Hey, so where do you work?" and when the guy turned to look at me I realised it was someone I'd never seen before, but he wasn't phased. He said: "I work in sales." My face gave nothing away as I glided away out of the lift as soon as the set of doors opened.

It's all about control in the end. I'm not a control freak but I can't cope when it slips away from me, as is my whole life right now, moving in a direction I did not dictate. It's the scariest feeling of all. It makes me want to curl up in a ball on my bed and never move again.

I am strange.