I cannot breathe.
I remember what it was like - no, that’s a lie, or if I remembered, the memory has now gone from me. I believe in breathing - I have a concept of it, I feel that I knew once what it was. Rhythmic, regular, a core part of living - but also peripheral. Something that you don’t notice until you have to focus on it.
A core part of living.
If I’m not breathing now, then...
Did I live? I must have. Again, it is more a concept than a memory. But I must have lived. I think, I am thinking now, I am aware now.
I am a thinking self. This implies that I lived. I have words - barely, I catch them out of the aether like …
like...
flies. I catch words like flies, snatching at them. It works better when I don’t think about it. Like breathing.
I want to live.
(why?)
I have to take a breath.
If I want to live, I have to take a breath.
Do it. Don’t think. Do. Use your will. Focus. Live. Draw breath. Do it. Breathe breathe exhale inhale, like that, that’s how it works, just inhale, just inhale, just breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe...
