This, too, shall pass.

I gripped the sides of my chair with my hands.
I don't know why I did that or what exactly I was trying to achieve.

Perhaps it was to keep myself from hurling my computer to the opposite wall. Perhaps it was to steady myself because all of a sudden, I felt sick to my stomach. Perhaps it was just my way of telling myself to breathe

slowly.
In, out, in, out.

I had wrapped them up, all those memories, all those thoughts. I had wrapped them up so tightly into a tiny ball and duct-taped it over. I had taken that ball and shoved it into the deepest recesses of my body where nothing could touch it. Where I thought it would stay for a long time.

I should've known it was just a ticking time bomb in disguise, counting down seconds until its explosion.
Tick, tock, tick, tock...
Boom.

So I sat there, doubled over in my chair as it struck, knowing that there are some things I can't stop,
knowing that I just had to take the hit and silently wait for it to subside.

Because the more silently I sit, the more quickly it will leave.