Breathing.

As I drag my feet tiredly, further marking the path I’ve walked my whole life, I think of nothing – my mind not a blank sheet, open to the world, but a torn one, tattered and worn with all the erased thoughts. I walk with my head facing the ground, hanging heavy with the labor of living. I watch, but don’t see. Until something cuts through my vision. A sharp flash of light.

I stop and stare. Little water puddles reflecting the sky. Like little shards of heaven, fallen to the ground. Seeing the clouds down instead of up, such a bizarre sight. I reach down to touch them, to feel the soft smoke puffs of white ghost through my hand. Instead of dry, I am met with wet. Instead of pure, I am met with soil. The illusion shatters.

An invisible stone of reality hitting the mirror of possibilities. For a moment, I am sad. A light breeze runs through my hair, making the strands waltz around my face. I look up and smile, seeing the endless sky, intact and complete. It gives me hope. Hope that the summer is on its way, bringing the gift of breathing. Oh, how I miss breathing.

Note: This <- is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read.

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