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Everyone feels the same.

By: J.D Ramirez

There is no specific reason that awakens what I feel. Until now it has only appeared and in the same way it has gone.

Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s a little fit of hysteria. It is most likely just a passing thing.

The truth is that I have tried to see it from a calm point of view since it seems to me something extremely normal; I suppose that this type of feeling has to have them heard the world, right?

It is that it is a kind of heat that is increasing little by little, that is slowly taking over me. People stop being an individual and begin to belong to a great mass without a face, the sounds they emit are similar to squawks and everything around me is nothing more than walls that are getting closer and closer until my space is reduced to a minimum.

It’s a strange feeling to feel claustrophobic in the open air. Agoraphobia is playing a trick on me.

I’m not paranoid, but I feel like everyone is looking at me. Don’t think I’m crazy, I’m not schizophrenic.

As much as I’ve tried to go unnoticed, I can’t help them, the only thing I feel is that they see me and laugh.

I feel that an irrepressible urge has been awakened to light a torch with my hatred, run through the crowd, and set them all alight with all my red-hot rage.

Today I want to see the last pair of pandas disappear, I’m sick of seeing how they beg them to fuck.

I don’t want to know anything more about Africa or the Amazon manatee.

There is a high-pitched sound that echoes in my ears and the words that flutter in my thoughts hammer my mind without ceasing.

Today is one of those days when I want to watch the world burn and sit in a corner while wonders fall on its pillars.

Today is one of those days where I just want to see the world a happy place because it’s gone.

My teeth ache from the clenching of my jaw. My temples are throbbing like I just came from a marathon. My hands are shaking and I just want this to happen soon.

I had not noticed, but a child who is in his mother’s arms is watching me, by the expression on his face I notice that he has been doing it for some time; As I fix my gaze on him, he smiles and my anger increases; I don’t want to see smiles, I just want to see desolation around me.

At this moment I want the plague to break out from the sewers, that the rivers overflow their banks.

I’m in the subway and I find myself out of place. I don’t know when I entered or at which station I got off, they all seem the same to me and the music that is played on the speakers seems abominable to me.

I think about world hunger and it makes me laugh. I think about being bedridden and dying and I think it would be the best place in the world.

I go out into the street and start to breathe some air again, it’s just as impure, but at least people don’t break into my space.

With each step I take, the intensity of what I have been feeling decreases, and the heat dissipates and gives way to a fresh product of sweat and the breeze.

I take a deep breath and the street makes sense again. I’m back to reality and I’m still thinking: I guess these kinds of feelings have to be felt by everyone, right?

J.D.R. 09/11/11