You’re on a bus at 11:07am to town on a Friday. You’re listening to Lithium by Nirvana, thinking about nothing much. Maybe about getting that delicious sugar free vanilla soya latte in Starbucks as soon as you get in, then what you want to buy in Topshop. The next song that comes on is Skinny Love by Bon Iver. Suddenly, all the feelings flood your brain from that time you took far too many paracetamol, but the memories don’t exactly return. Just the pain and numbness. Because you’re in an open space, you can’t cry, you can’t distract yourself with anything without the scrutinising looks from the general public. The only thing you have to do is control your breathing so you don’t make a bloody fool of yourself by having a panic attack. You realise that whilst all these thoughts have been going through your head, your jaw has been clenched, it’s so tight, your hands are sweaty, shaking and someone must be noticing your inner turmoil by now. Thousands of thoughts are literally racing through your mind, too fast for you to even keep up with, it’s only feelings that you can really grasp. Bleakness, despair, emptiness. Listening to Lithium feels like a lifetime ago, nothing seems worth it anymore. Now, you’re on autopilot mode, getting off the bus, saying ‘thank you’ to the driver in a voice that doesn’t sound like yours anymore. Walking through town, your feet take you where you need to go, you smile to hide the sadness but you can’t feel, or remember, a thing. You’re back on the bus, and then straight into bed. The wave that came over you back when Bon Iver came on this morning has stayed with you, you can’t just switch it off or cheer up, you’ve been swept out to sea. A storm has developed in your head, crashing against everything, making it uncomfortable to do anything. That is how it feels to mentally spiral. Who knows how long it will last.