Frustration reaches its limit, bringing on more then heartbreak. Not knowing clouds all other judgement, disrupting the flow of event you once had control over. This is your life out of control. Turbulence seems like a calm experience when you’re in a tailspin of which you cannot pull out.
But it’s not your hands on the controls. You need another to make a decision for themselves in order to save you both. The indecision is deafening, covering everything like a blanket of thick and heavy fabric. You struggle to move, but you barely urge enough energy into your appendages to escape.
The air grows hot, stale. You wonder why you even want to breathe it any longer. Maybe it will grow cooler and fresher if you want to wait to see if it will, but how long will that take? Will you suffocate before it happens, or do you have enough willpower left to weather a storm of your own making? Can you lie and blame yourself again?