sans nom it hurts

girl_jane it makes me think of when we breathed together...

Every time my chest rises or falls, I think of how your chest rose and fell with mine.


I remember when we laughed together.

Giggles, cackles, or gut-busting laughs-they all remind me of how you'd snort if you laughed too hard.

and when_i_cry

I'm crying because you're not breathing or laughing...or living...with me anymore.
pipedream breath is the most intimate of things; every exhalation carries your essence with it like a treasure of your veins, heat of your blood, song of your organs.
when i breathe, the world is mine to mold into myself and give back marked with my seal.
megan i want to breathe you in 030928
grendel i make sure it isn't without a cigarette as often as i can 030928
Vylsefter life fills my lungs
begging me to care
when i breathe
the past fills my brain
telling me
speaking to me
telling me to breathe
Expand around you, my breath is an extension of my thougts. I hold back, pause, and let it all out. I become eratic, and irrational, and i love every thought i dream of thinking. You become a whole new reality and every breath brings me closer to the disillusionment. I let my heart take me there, and i feel it closing in. The misunderstandings inside make it even harder to live the truth. When i see you next it's a whole new emotion, that i never thought i could feel and i eventually crash, because... when i breathe you in i lose myself 040228
Syrope sometimes when_i_breathe it hurts, i feel restricted, confined, oppressed, but last night coming out of your room i closed my eyes and inhaled the cold air...
for one thing it's taken damned long enough to get over the sore throat/cold that made doing that painful, but for another...the feeling that's still with me - is just an amazement for my history. not just my life, but as a human, especially as a female.

part of me is disgusted with how weak we've become as a society - before we knew so much. i think of families working not 9-5, but until whatever it was was fucking finished. there's an end and you work to it. just because there was no other option. don't finish, don't eat. now we whine and piddle and half-ass our ways through life and complain about how hard it all is and how we need therapy and drugs to make life bearable. but i personally feel pretty strong. not strong enough to absorb the heartache of practicing to be a woman for 13 years, then being thrown headfirst into it...the heartache of hating the children who survived almost as much as the ones i carried to term only to have die before the age of 1. not strong enough to be abused by but still to cook for, to clean for, to comfort, to lie still underneath the whims of a husband...but strong nonetheless.

i haven't breathed this easily and this evenly for a long time. i'm not happy, but i'm not weak. i'm tired, but not helpless.

when_i_breathe, i'm amazed at my body's willingness to keep trying. it's like it knows something i don't...that there's a chance, that there's a purpose.

that there's an end.
.nom i am alive 050124
.nom i am every breath 050124
.nom i taste the world 050124
what's it to you?
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