Thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums

Panic attacks are getting to be a regular occurance, now. I'm not sure what the fuck is wrong with me.

What used to be nothing turned into: a simple claustrophobia.

Which turned into: simple claustrophobia plus occasional motion sickness.

Which has turned into: hyperventilating whenever an intense movie is on, whenever I am in angry foreign traffic, while playing airplane simulation games, riding in boats on the ocean, in large rooms with shoulder to shoulder human beings, etc.

Suddenly, everything asphyxiates me.

I'm probably going to turn into some weirdo who breaks out in hives whenever I see Alex Trebek. Or something.

I was having a panic attack while driving on Friday night. I'm not sure why. I ended up running a red light (on purpose) and getting pulled over (not on purpose). Which gave me a chance to open the window and breathe, and center myself.

Deep breaths in and out. Do not faint. I did this while retrieving my license for the officer, who had a Jersey accent even though we were in North Mississippi. "I seen too many wrecks 'cause of people runnin' them yellows" he said. And he gave me a warning paper. Which meant I was off the hook.

'Off the hook' in the old-fashioned sense, and not the new-fashioned sense.

So. I dunno what's next for me. Narcolepsy, I guess.

Give me five years and I will be prone to epilepsy, narcolepsy, insomnia, and possibly a bit of schizophrenia in the average day.

Plus, WebMD tells me that I'm more likely to become fiendish for vices. Like alcohol and narcotics.

See where living like a saint gets me?

WebMD also says I should avoid coffees and cokes. And start hanging with a different crowd (i.e. anyone but me). And exercise. And have a plan for every day.

No one else has to do these things. It sucks.

I think God is punishing me for those couple of years when I listened to hardcore death metal. And the Beatles.

Fucked by the Beatles, again.