Day in and day out, suffocation.

This air of familiarity grows thicker and thicker as each day takes motion,

At work, my lungs feel engorged, as if someone ripped a whole right through them and filled them with water,

At home, I feel stuffed to my breeches, not even an unbuttoning of the pants will make it any easier to breathe,

In my own room, I feel hot, suffocated by my blankets and the things I have willingly placed around me.

I can’t breathe.

I gasp, and gasp, but the air seems to be getting thicker,

Everything around me, everything familiar, garbs a bit of my throat and lungs, slowly, but tightly squeezing the air out of me, squeezing the life out of me; forcing me into its’ existence, gripping tightly to my thirst for adventure, for something new, tightly holding me back;

Everyone has a say in the breaths I take, and I have no say at all; my throat is at their hands, unwillingly.

But I will breathe, I will breathe until there is no room in my airways, till the air becomes so thick that it’s like water being poured directly into my lungs.

I will breathe.