心情恶心英文短语

John felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he stepped onto the subway car. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an eerie glow on the faces of the passengers. He clutched his stomach, trying to steady the churning inside. The metallic taste of bile filled his mouth. He found a seat near the middle and sat down, hoping that the feeling would pass. But it only grew stronger. He looked around, hoping for a familiar face, but he was alone in this sea of strangers. The subway began to move, and John closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the sensation in his stomach. He thought about his morning, how he had woken up feeling perfectly fine, how he had eaten a hearty breakfast, how he had left his apartment feeling confident and ready for the day. But now, everything had changed. John opened his eyes and looked out the window, hoping that the scenery would distract him. But the buildings and trees blurred together, and he felt like he was in a dream. He closed his eyes again and focused on his breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. But the sensation in his stomach only grew stronger. John stood up, hoping that the movement would help. But it only made things worse. He stumbled towards the door, his vision tunneling, his thoughts racing. He stumbled out of the subway car, the cool air hitting his face. He leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself. He looked down the empty subway platform, hoping for a sign, anything that would tell him what to do. But there was nothing. John took a deep breath and started walking, his steps slow and unsteady. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew that he had to keep moving. As he walked, the sensation in his stomach grew stronger, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He stumbled into an alleyway, hoping to find a trash can. But there was none. John leaned against a wall, his body shaking, his thoughts a blur. He didn't know what was happening to him, but he knew that he had to find help. He pulled out his phone, hoping to call someone, anyone. But his fingers wouldn't move. He tried to speak, but no words came out. John collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing, his mind a blank. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew that it was bad. And then, everything went black. When John woke up, he was in a hospital bed, an IV drip in his arm. He tried to sit up, but a nurse stopped him. "Take it easy," she said. "You've been through a lot." John looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. "What happened to me?" he asked. The nurse smiled. "You had a panic attack," she said. "But you're going to be okay now." John lay back in the bed, trying to process what she had said. A panic attack. That was what had happened to him. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.