Anxiety Attack in Cabo Wabo

I’m hot
Burning up
It’s internal, though
It’s not the 110-degree weather
Not a cloud in sight
Crisping my skin to a golden brown
No, it’s inside
Something within my skin heats me
I sweat even in the air conditioning
This is a joyous place
Gambling and food and liquor
As far as the eye can see
And I’m feeling my stomach twist into knots
I feel tired in a way I don’t understand
I feel weary, bone-deep, deeper than that
It’s queasiness too
But that has to be from something I ate
Has to, of course
I just need to let things settle a bit
If I only weren’t so hot
Gotta use the bathroom
Maybe that will help
It’s hot in there too
No relief to be found
Why is my throat tight
Like a noose inside of it
My jaw muscles clench
Heat behind my eyes
What is going on
I’m where I want to be
I’m having fun
Why are my eyes burning
Why are they wet
My chest is tight, like a band across it
Force your way through it, man
You have to enjoy yourself
I’m back out at the table, nachos in front of me
My brother is concerned
Who can blame him, really
I don’t understand what is happening
He says something about Dad and it clicks
This is a lot of shit all at once
It takes all I have to keep it together
To not let tears flow freely in public
I put my sunglasses on
It looks douchey indoors but it’s safe
Thoughts are racing now
Threatening to burst
We retreat to the hotel room
To recover and to talk
It’s so much and all at once
I miss my Dad
It’s not fair that he’s not here
It’s not fair that we don’t get to call
To say hi
To tell him how we’re doing on the machines
To call him Daddio affectionately
It’s not fair that we’re here and he’s not
It’s not fair that we have to live without him
I miss my Dad
I miss my Dad
I miss my Dad
I miss the life I wish I had
The career, the marriage, the kids
All of that seems so far away
Impossible, really
Those thoughts and dreams of a respectable man
Replaced by being a fat guy crying in Cabo Wabo
I am dissatisfied with who I am
Down to my very core
I miss my Dad
A long time coming, I think
This has been building up
I don’t let it go
I never do
I bury it, an undertaker of my own emotion
Because it’s easier
Safer
I don’t have to confront myself
I miss my Dad
I miss my life
And the anxiety takes over
Despite fighting it off for so long
I cry
And I swear
And I go throw up
Purging myself in many senses
Literally and metaphorically
I drink water
I try to calm myself
I try to let go of the guilt
Because I don’t value guilt
And yet there it is
Sitting on my chest
On my mind
Waiting for me to slip up
Waiting for me to hold on to too much
I miss my Dad
I miss my life
I miss what could have been
Should have
No, not should
Should is useless
And yet
And yet
We talk and calm down and my body is cooling again
We go get a drink
We gamble
I’m free, at least for now
Therapy is going to be fucking fun next week