THE PRISONER ever wonder if it'd be easier to just suffocate?

Like it's not the drowning or even the dying that's terrifying. It's the gasping, the heaving. The gulping for air that isn't there & the panic that electrifies your body as it realizes there isn't. The body won't just allow this though. The body, in its infinity stupidity, fights, & claws anyway, stuck in a cycle of reflexes. When I was much older than I am in the story we're telling today, I actually came to see the perfect metaphor for this feeling, watching a hologram glitch & seize, attempting to perform the same action over & over but incapable. That's your body when it's dying... stuck in a glitch of emotions. Why can't we ever just accept anything?

Think about it though, for real, imagine this: a train is coming toward you. You're standing on the tracks & you've decided that you're going to let it smash into you & kill you. You've consciously weighed this decision for weeks & are prepared to go through with it. You've decided you're doing this. But you can't control your body's impulse to sweat, or to cry, or to erupt inside with fear & an overwhelming urge to run. Even if you plan for these things to occur, even if you've thought about how you'll feel in advance, they can't be satiated. You know the phrase "push my buttons?" Well, it's crap, because there are no buttons or switches or knobs. There's no turning anything off or on, it just is, & there's no getting around it & maybe that scares us more.

Why can't my brain — in its wondrous power — ever outsmart its significantly dumber & more susceptible counterpart of my body? Because your brain is not, & never was, the warden... it's the prisoner.