Sometimes when I'm like waiting to do something I imagine I'm a cell and how claustrophobic that would be, and the frantic spastic movements of the compounds, enzymes and proteins within me, shaking chaotically yet in rhythm with a billion other cells and their respective constituent parts, and how loud the the thrumming scream of metabolism permeates everything, all in a dark, wet, void of interstitial fluids wooshing between me and my neighbors, the tension and pressure of division, and the inevitable hollow THWOCK of apoptosis as my daughters rush to fill my space.