Do you ever wonder...
Wonder what it is like to be short of breath?
Let me articulate.
Every. Breath. Is. Like. This.
You sit and rack your brain for a better position. Sit, stand, lay on your side, lay propped up, curl up like an infant? What do you do? What will ease the torture? What will release the monster that's taken over your pulmonary functions?
You do anything to get air. You try adjusting your breathing, switch up the pattern, purse your lips, slow it down, something, anything.
Maybe there's pain in your chest. Maybe this pain in your chest is overwhelming. It threatens to cripple you, to take you to the floor, to seep through your entire body and paralyze you with its iron grip.
Perhaps if you think about tall hazelnut blondes and a certain tall dark and handsome, you will forget that you can't catch your breath and this cruel game your lungs are playing with you will be over. It doesn't matter that you are not a willing participant. It doesn't faze your lungs when your eyeballs well up with tears.
Your shoulders rise up, then down, up, then down.
Your muscles get tighter.
Is it another invasion, or just a bad day?