Can’t help but think of vivid orange bottles, scattered capsules, or plastic bags, and how it felt, air growing short, my mind numbing. So I duct-taped my mouth shut and covered my nose as well, and waited, my body convulsing, and all my willpower devoted to keeping my arms at my side. The first time I tore at it, breathed deeply. Replaced it and vowed to try harder, entangling my fingers in the sheets beside me.
How strange it was, to find my own body rebelling against my mind: my mouth contorting, struggling even as I willed it to cease, even as I pressed my hands against the mattress desperately. And then, the way it felt, the duct-tape giving away slightly at my tugging lips - that brief flash of hope, relief - and my hands leaping upward to assist before I forced them back down, fingers again clasping at fabric.
Time passing.
Growing dizzy, still gagging helplessly, the tape stretching against my skin, my muscles twisting. Hopeless until, with impossible suddenness, the barrier falling; gasping air and tape into my mouth, tasting chemicals and salvation. Gradually becoming aware of the tender skin revealed, the scraps stuck around my mouth and nose.
But again I know my desire to live, and the depth of such a concept.
I am an animal, and I must survive.
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