Not breathing, that will be the death of me.
Well, obviously. But, really.
You shouldn't speculate about your own death. I'm not superstitious, but words do have power and you set things in motion when you talk about them (self-fulfilling prophecies and all that). But it's after midnight and I'm feeling a bit rebellious and a bit tired of playing by safe rules and I will die some day anyway. Right now it doesn't worry me in the slightest.
There is nothing physically wrong with me. I can run and jump for hours. Yet sometimes I have to control my breathing so as not to hyperventilate, just because I'm weak or not well or just generally anguished. Sometimes my body stops breathing and then remembers to restart at the last minute (with a reassuringly powerful effort, admittedly). I tend to panic in water so am a drowning victim waiting to happen. My father died because his lungs stopped working.
A very spiritual friend of mine once told me breathing is connected to one's spirit (spiritus in Latin means breath). Or perhaps to God's spirit, the one who is also called the Breath of God and is compared to a wind (Ruach Elohim). My friend suggested getting to know this Spirit. He may have a point.
What I really think? That I'm out of breath because I have been running for so long - hunted by pressure to be someone else, and desperate longing, and a terrible fear of not being loved. One day, I hope to be able to stop and catch my breath.
When you pick me up and carry me. Then I will feel as if I can breathe for the first time in years. Safe.
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