Waiting to inhale

Breathless

I forget to breathe sometimes. No, that’s not right—every so often I would stop myself from breathing. I’d feel lightheaded and my jaws would lock and then I’d realize that—ooooops—I had forgotten to inhale again. Hey, is it possible for someone to suffer from chronic asphyxiation?

There… I’m doing it yet again. I seem to have overlooked the fact that breathing was a natural, automatic activity and that I should just leave my lungs alone to take in and release air. I should just trust them to do their job.

I feel as if I’m constantly waiting for something to take place or come to an end … or that I’m preventing a cycle from ending or beginning. I always find myself standing on the edge of a precipice over an expanding chasm… anxiously waiting, wondering and being thrifty with my breath. I’m slowly drowning on dry land; the undertow created by my desperate, ragged gasps for air steadily drags me under into the bitter, disconsolate place of nothingness.

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