Heart Attack(indi) Your heart ticks, constantly, like a self-adjusting metronome. Constantly ticking the seconds until its eventual death, destruction. All the while, never tiring, never feeling pain, never knowing for itself, how many beats it has left, how much time it has, how many beats it’s done.

We take it for granted how simple the hearts' function is, how little it actually does. It’s one function, to keep us alive, its one method, pumping, forcing blood out and sucking it in, yet without these two incredibly simple functions we would no longer exist, our issues would die, calls would necrotise, we would become hypoxic, asphyxiated, we would stop breathing, we would give up. Our hearts serve as the bodies’ life beacon, constantly saying, keep living, keep sucking in air, blood, absorbing nutrients and keep expelling waste. Keep thinking, keep wondering, keep yearning, keep asking why, how, when and what? And never stop beating.

But things do go wrong, things can stop working, things can bet blocked, damaged. It is in human nature to fail, make mistakes, get tired, lose our focus, become ill, and yes even die.

When an artery, a conduit for the essence that keeps this heart ticking, gets blocked, constricts, or is occluded. It cuts off air; cutting off the arms gripping life. Letting the dark smog wrap itself around us, slowly.
First, tachycardia sets in. the heart speeds up, for no apparent reason. You're thinking, what? I’m just sitting here, not doing anything except breathing. You begin to panic, get nauseous, feel short of breath, as if your body thinks it’s running, running away from death. You begin to sweat, breathe fast, shallow, difficult. The pain hits you square in the chest, like a football has sucker punched you. But it’s not leaving, it’s pressing, constricting. You can’t breathe; your hands and feet go numb. Your vision dims, tunnels, you have one circle left of vision, through which everything is small, far away, as though you are falling away from your grip on life. Your hands are sweaty, slipping. You try to hold on, you clench your fists. But you can’t get them away from your chest. You lose the feeling in your legs, you can’t hold yourself up, and your head is swimming, spinning, throbbing as is your chest. You can’t fight any more, you don't have the strength. You fall to your knees, then back, tipping, pitching. Falling away. You try to utter the word for help. You implore someone, anyone, to smash the glass; pull you out of this burning out of control car that is your body. But it’s impenetrable.
The last effort to get out costs you that last bit of energy.
You can’t get air in, or out.
You are blue.
You are dead.

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