Pressure

It weighs upon me like a leaden shirt, pulling me ever so slowly into the vile pit.

Succumb, it cajoles. Snickering and sneering like every bad experience, wretched encounter and wicked failure all rolled into one. I ignore it, and it has me where it wants me.

Fall, it commands. I struggle to shed it from my person, but it clings determinedly. I clutch at the tightening collar around my neck, but it persists -- and I am bound. I fight it, and it toys with me most cruelly.

Surrender, it proclaims. And I cannot refuse, for my being is crushed by its thunderous mass and I fall to my knees.

I acknowledge it, and I am myself again.