Writing > Short Stories



Breathe... in... breathe... out... Don't choke...

The feeling is back again. That feeling that I always get when I'm high... The feeling that I'm going to choke on my tongue.
I roll myself over onto my side, which normally isn't a laborious task, but considering my current state of mind, it felt as though every muscle in my body was clinging to the ground. Pulling for me to just remain on my back.

I remember when things weren't like this. When I was innocent. When I was sober... When I felt things as they were supposed to be felt. When I saw things through less jaded eyes...

When did the world become so fucking ugly? When did my foundation begin crumbling beneath my feet? Will I ever have the answers?

Calm down... breathe... in... breathe... out... don't you dare fucking choke.

My arm lay next to my face, and for a brief second, I caught the smell of lavender. The soap my mother used. The soap my father had bought my mother on a business trip. A reminder of them, I just did not want at a time like this.

The tears starting rolling down my cheeks.

Breathe... in... breathe... out... don't... just...

I could tell that I wasn't going to make it out of this alive. I couldn't shake this feeling. My eyes were begging for me to shut them, and never open them again. My chest was pleading for me to just make my heart cease beating. My veins were screaming that they were too deadened to push blood through them anymore.

I whispered to them "I wish I could."

I felt no fear of death.

Breathe in... hold your breath.


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