Each second we breathe, we're driven.
We inhale, exhale with the anxiety of life, and the toxic flow of thoughts we tend to think.
I sometimes inhale, exhale the breath of the atmosphere, but forget to take a breath.
Just like a stone skips across the water, we live our day to day lives. We push ourselves to skip, skip, skip across the water, but then we overthink, and then, we start to sink deeply, deeper, and deeper.
It's a wondrous curiosity. The way ink flows from a pen. Or how feeling flows from within, when we're giving up, and our hearts are so delicate and brittle.
When I most often lose my breath,
I feel like the battle I'm fighting is over.
I feel like I have no way to express how my emotions overtake me, and the light will fade from my eyes as I try to keep breathing the air lost in the atmosphere, and yet, watch how the ink spills on paper.
