the ringing in my ears after that kind of full-body convulsion, it isn't deafening but a hum, a sustained vibration that tells me the pressure inside has shifted, something's given way, again, and the world looks a little sharper through the blur of what just happened. it’s like my chest got hollowed out again, that expansive feeling, but this time it was laughter that cleared the space, not the fear, not the tearing down, just this immense, ridiculous burst of something good that cracked the dam and brought up everything else, the ghosts of the old anxieties swirling in the periphery like dust motes in the summer sun, a gentle reminder of the unbuilding, of how much breath it took to finally truly feel alive. and my hands feel almost weightless after, a strange relief in the lightness of my fingertips, like they just helped navigate some kind of emotional whitewater rapids, and somehow, we made it to the other side, again. i wonder how many times i can feel the world unravel and then piece itself back together like this, all at once.