not enough to kill you but enough to make you think.
There are only certain things you can hear now,
random fidgets your body makes,
your breath which you have to focus on now that your chest is tight,
and your heart beat.
No TV or dripping tap that you couldn't be arsed to turn off after a shave.
No akward sounds from outside that are peaceful sometimes, not now though.
No phone, or Facebook.
No naggy family that ask if you've eaten, if you've eaten, if you've eaten.
As much as I love them for the life of me I'm full.
You have one of those moments like in Simpsons the movie when Homer can't have a epiphany and you feel like a tit. You give up, you give up, you give up, then whatever.
You pull your head out of the water,
turn that tap off, towel dry and get dressed, change the channel because you are no longer interested in what you were watching and life continues.
