Pulsating with life, consumed by the hustle and bustle; the ticks and tocks of reality, shanghaied the precious times for us to breathe. Waking up, rushing here, rushing there, get flabbergasted, sleep, repeat in a perennial loop of routine banality.
What if I break this cycle? I chuckled to myself as I was getting late to work. A ludicrous thought that I had buzzing in my head for days. I leaned myself into the porcelain sink, splashing myself awake to get this routine going. Somehow, I just forgotten how life was before reality kicked in, neglecting the need to breathe.
Submerging myself into the tranquil and transient waves, I caught a glimpse of me drowning, but I seemed oblivious about it. The relinquished me was steadily sinking deeper, and deeper into Davy Jones’ locker. I lifted up my head from the pool of water, retaining my vision into the plain white ceiling, closing my eyes, just to breathe.
I was flying in the clouds up high, soaring with the eagles. No. I was falling, the altitude change captured me alive. It was getting more intense, the flesh on me was flapping viciously, the wind was sieving through me. I was accelerating like nobody’s business until I reached the terminal velocity where I only experienced gravitational acceleration, a constant steady fall from the heavens.
Beep. Beep. Beep. My phone rang from the hall, resonating the alarm to get back to work. I sucked in a deep breath, proceeding to my coffee and to work. My mind was fully immersed in the process of getting my work done, of attempting to get my bosses’ and colleagues’ recognition, working my heart out just to…
Wait. This pinch of sudden thought struck me. What am I doing? I questioned myself as if I- not me, but my conscience, was facing an existential crisis. I took in a deep breath of the arid parking lot air, it was filled with pangs of ordinary boredom boring holes into my existence, my breath and my life.
Is this really what I want? I got into my car, started it, plucked in the aux, letting my jam overwhelm the wake-up call. The voice waned into its origin- silence, once again after being defeated by reality. Simply living just to exist, forgetting the intrinsic meaning of life was and stopped breathing.