Breathing

I feel so sluggish and tired that even breathing is an immense effort, my eyes are constantly pulled downwards and breathing in and out feels short and tense, as if I am in a state of chronic hyper-ventilation. Outside, there is no sun, no moon, no stars to be seen, everything is gray and dreary. It is exhausting in that emptiness, even my hard-won consciousness, which is supposed to keep me from falling into it, is beginning to crack and fade, not knowing what to do. But that is only on the surface, a temporary blackout, a momentary numbness in my existence.

Soon it will be better, I have been given a homeopathic miracle pill, something that should make me more stable. Is stability possible in a space that has been sucked into a vacuum? If only I could achieve a certain self-control over my emotions, like a Vulcan, searching for the logic behind things and constantly questioning existential truths, adjusting my own principles if they prove to be wrong, without overthinking things. It has to remain a gut feeling, as they say— if you truly dare to listen and feel that inner voice. Apart from that turmoil, I mainly want to cry out for freedom of identity and a will to live.

Still, everything feels heavy and far away from who I am. Why can’t I just stop for a moment? Why is simply breathing, just breathing deeply, sometimes so damn difficult? Maybe you first have to knock the impurities out of your lungs, bite, cough, cry, in order to be able to breathe more freely.

That’s absurd. Do I really have to be almost dying before to breathe fully again? Maybe the solution lies in changing the rhythm of my breathing, changing it every now and then. Just like music, like good poetry.

That’s all I ask: let me choose the rhythm I want to breathe.