Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song. Right me when I'm wrong. Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you.

Every now and then I get panic attacks.
I suffer with my head shutting down, panic ensuing, then emergency lights coming on.

In front of you, are small boxes suspended from the ceiling.
Below all these boxes, there is a thing.
A person, a monster, a robot.
Each small box contains something.
A thought.
An emotion.
A memory.
A problem.
The thing catches whatever falls from those boxes.
Carefully replacing it.
But there's so many boxes.
So many 'somethings', that sometimes that thing can't cope.
Sometimes he can't catch them all.
And so they build up.
On the floor.
Doubling in size.
Merging with other 'somethings' that have fell.
Doubling in size.
Creating worry.
Festering panic.
And then the lights go out.
Shut down.
The emergency lights make it difficult to see things clearly.
Everything is blurry.
There's too much.