19
When I say breathe. I mean it. Because sometimes you forget that your holding your breath when the world is spinning and your just waiting for it to be still, settle down. Calm down. Please.
And you're just begging for it to stop moving because you can barely hold down the contents of your stomach and the dizziness has spread to the numbness of your fingers. It's like an epiphany driving on an isolated road when you're letting your mind wander because the loneliness was forcing you to fill the silence with your thoughts. Because the car radio was fuzzy with static and you couldn't pretend that you were happy singing along with the ballads on Oldies 98. Just for a moment on this deserted road lined with trees you let down your gaurd. And unconsciously, let it consume you.
But what consumed you? What have you been hiding? What are you pretending that's not there? It better be something big.
Don't make big a deal out of this. Don't try to make something out of nothing. Fabrications are your lies. Downfall. Fall down.
Does any of this make sense? Are you listening? Am I really thinking these thoughts? And are these mine? I haven't thought this way in God only knows how long. It's been so long since I've let myself be tragic.
All that teenage angst shit is so far behind me. But what is this? What is this new found quiet sort of sadness? Was I ever sad? Was I ever happy?
Was I ever enough?
Hold on a second. Let me catch my breath.
I'm 19. That wonderful age between a teenager and an adult. Too old to have sophomoric tragedies usually associated with highschool and growing pains. But too young to complain about the responsiblities of being an adult. Too young to actually know what the world is really like because I'm still holding on to the ideal that my parents are always going to pay for my gas and buy my clothes and make me my breakfast.
It's like the time where there's no real tragedy even if you're looking for one. Because there is no reason commonly associated with such an awkward age --- that feeling even if remotely downtrodden seems selfish. What could I possibly feel bad about?
Trying to rationalize this abrupt feeling is not even worth it. I'm too lazy to think about what could possibly be bothering me. I think it's because I've come to the conclusion that something just --- are. And not thinking about it makes it so that it's not real. That my combat. My battle move. My problem-fixer. Got a problem? Forget about it. Then it's not a problem anymore.
Easy as pie.
I know that my method lacks courage. But when has courage ever been needed to succeed in life? Isn't it determination? Resignation? And will-power? Where did courage ever step in? I could get by in life pretending that everything okay. I don't consider that cowardice.
Maybe I'm lying to myself. Maybe I've fed myself bullshit lies just cope with things that rise passion within me. Before, passion was my downfall. It got me standing by myself in a crowd and a few slaps to the face. People are more taken back by passion, than they are moved by it. I think it's because people lack outward public passion these days. The norm, has set a standard for people to be pleasant, polite, and agreeable in company. Passion tends to strike nerves and awkward uncomfortable silences. Or outright brawls.
I'm not saying that passion isn't good. I'm not concieted enough to say that I'm the only passionate person in this world. I'm just saying, humbly, that my passion was never rewarded, encouraged, or praised. Why holdfast to a quality that doesn't bring out the best in you?
I don't know even know where I'm getting at. And I've been holding my breath for the past 4 or so paragraphs. I need a post-it not on my forehead scribbled in bright red letters "BREATHE" Otherwise, I really might pass out from lack of oxygen.
Pathetic, isn't it?
Breathing is suppose to be a natural habit that you never have to be taught. It just so happens, that I'm an idiot, when in anxious situations, forgets to breathe.