Breathing, usually so automatic, so natural,
no thought required, just inhale, exhale.
Yet, she struggled. Her lungs seemed to
feel the weight of her misery,
crushed and laboured.
What if she didn’t fight for the next inhale?
What if the last exhale was to be the final one?
Would the pain end?
Alas, no. It would not.
So, she fought for the next inhale,
she clenched her teeth and battled for the next exhale,
not to be her last.
For as painful as existence was, right now, it was worth fighting for.
She was worth fighting for.
And she hoped that one day, she would actually believe this.
Leave a Reply