Some days, my day looks like this
But my night can look like this
Maybe it’s because I ran around filming a video. Or inhaled a bunch of smoke all day drifting around with the breeze. Or sat around a campfire at lunch. Or maybe there’s seemingly no reason at all.
For me, the asthma monster-under-the-bed, I am lucky, doesn’t come around often. Maybe once a month, maybe less than that. Most of the time, unless I’m really sick, it lurks from inside me slowly–waking up and not realizing my lungs are the reason why, usually wandering to the bathroom and back before laying down to realize “Hey, I’m pretty short of breath over here.”
Sometimes a couple puffs of Ventolin is all it takes for me to drift back to sleep. Other times like the other night, I slip into some sort of autopilot while feeling a heaviness settled in my lungs: two puffs, fifteen minutes. two puffs, fifteen minutes, two puffs, fifteen minutes. Last night, it was after round three, or six hits, I fell asleep again.
The next day, still, can look like this (…okay, a little tired I guess!)
It’s a mind game. It’s thinking I’m fine and when I’m least on my guard, the previous day somehow grabs onto me and shakes me back into it–in one of the ways I least want to be inside it.
this guilt feels so familiar, and i’m home / i will crawl / there’s things that aren’t worth giving up i know / but i won’t let this get me / i will fight . . . / you live the life you’re given with the storms outside . . ./ some days all i do is watch the sky
i think i, i could use a little break — but today was a good day.
watch the sky, something corporate