The Street with A Pulse, Breathing Back on Me

I know the moment it starts.

Not with a voice,

not with a shadow,

but with the way the air shifts—

stale, heavy,

like the void is coming for me,

blacker than the blackest black. If it swallows me up......

There's no coming back

I step onto the street

and everything feels slightly tilted,

as if someone nudged reality

a few degrees to the left

when I wasn’t looking.

It’s midnight,

but the neighborhood is too quiet.

This place is never quiet.

Silence here feels unnatural,

like something swallowed the noise

to make room for me.

Or for whatever is watching me.

I haven’t taken my medication in days.

I told myself I was fine.

I told myself I didn’t need it.

But tonight the shadows feel heavier,

like they’ve been waiting for me

to walk alone.

My thoughts flicker—

bright, sharp, disjointed—

like someone is switching channels

inside my skull.

No voices speak,

but the silence hums,

vibrating with meaning

I can almost understand.

I walk faster.

The stop sign at the end of the block

glows red,

but the glow pulses—

slow, deliberate,

like a heartbeat

that isn’t mine.

I blink.

It pulses again.

My chest tightens.

My breath shortens.

My mind whispers,

"It sees you!!!"

I try to shake it off,

but the streetlights stretch taller,

leaning in,

their halos bending

as if they’re listening to my footsteps.

The pavement ripples—

just once—

like something beneath it shifted

to get closer.

Goosebumps rise across my arms.

My hands tremble.

My vision sharpens too much—

edges glowing,

colors too bright,

shadows too deep.

Then I hear it—

footsteps behind me.

Soft.

Dragging.

Matching my pace

half a beat too late.

I turn.

No one.

But the air behind me

feels occupied,

as if someone just stepped out of it

a moment too soon.

My thoughts spiral.

What if it’s real?

What if it’s not?

What if the difference doesn’t matter

because the fear feels the same?

My heart pounds so hard

I feel it in my teeth.

My breath comes in short, sharp bursts.

A panic attack blooms—

hot, metallic,

like my ribs are shrinking inward.

I think of my family—

their faces flickering

like photographs held too close to a flame.

I imagine being taken from them,

horrible , painful things, happening to me......Torturing me...... for all eternity

not by a person,not even night itself, but something blacker than that!

by the thing I can’t see

I feel it watching me, like it wants to get inside and take my soul!!

The stop sign pulses again— under the only light on the street that night.

bright, urgent, alive.... telling me to listen to the Sign!

My mind snaps.

I run.

The street stretches behind me,

warped, breathing,

the shadows reaching long fingers

that never quite touch me

but never fall behind.

I reach my door,

slam it shut,

lock every bolt.

I have to remember to breath!

My hands won’t steady. My mind is racing with fear....

Inside, the house is silent and dark.

I felt like holding my breathe so it wouldn't hear me and looking for a place to hide before it found me.

The silence feels crowded,

as if something followed me home

and is standing just beyond the edge

of what I can bear to imagine.

I press my back to the door,

eyes wide,

mind racing.

I know this place—

this blurred line

between real and not real.

I forgot to take my meds again! That's what they always say. That

It's just my mental illness playing tricks on me.

But I know it's real!

Just because they can't see

Doesn't mean I'm lost. Something really is AFTER ME!!

This is the reality of a person living with a mental illness called schizophrenia .

The End