When I feel motion sickness in an under water tunnel with no light in sight my mind doesn't cooperate with me. I feel restless. I feel I cannot breathe. I feel my stomach is too big for my body pressing on my lungs. I feel my air ducts are too narrow. I hear my laborious breaths. I urge to open the bottoms of my jacket, to take off my scarf, to puke to open up the tightened air ducts. I consider pulling down the car window but I wonder if there is less oxygen outside, in a long tight tunnel, a few hundred feet under water.
Then I think about what my heart pleases. I mentally escape the scene. I imagine an ocean, the sun, the breeze. I imagine my love, his hand on my shoulders, smiling down at me.
I don't pray. It is too early to pray. I cannot give in.
Just as I am forgetting about lack of oxygen and the sound of my breaths and the tightness in my air ducts I see the light in the end of the tunnel.
I made it through! I thank God.
It is suffocating to imagine how water boarding must feel.
It is suffocating to imagine how those mothers must feel when they learned their 15 year old would never come back home from school let alone learning that he was shut to death.
It is suffocatibg to imagine how a detainee was frozen to death, chained on concrete floor, bare.
It is suffocating to imagine how it feels being held hostage in a coffee shop and witnessing the murder of human kind in front of your eyes.
I close my eyes. I try to imagine the ocean, the sun, the breeze, the loved ones.
It is too late for imaginations.
I pray...
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