• I can't breathe.
    Like I'm standing on top of the mountain.
    There is no air.

    Every breath I take in,
    Gets used up,
    Faster than I can inhale.

    It’s morning.
    I open my eyes,
    To focus on breathing.

    Breathe in,
    Breathe out,
    Slow and steady,
    I tell myself,
    Again and again.

    What’s wrong with me?
    My lungs got rusty?
    My heart went on leave?

    I think it’s my mind.

    There’s this idea I installed just recently,
    And already,
    The virus is spreading,
    Like wildfire.

    I actually don’t mind,
    Sleeping forever.
    I actually don’t mind,
    Not getting up.
    Really.

    I don’t care about me anymore.
    I’m fed up of almost everything.
    I’m tired.

    You cannot imagine,
    How hard it has become,
    For me to even
    Breathe.

    My body tries to stop working
    To shut down all the pain
    Taken in
    With each and every breath.
    I concentrate so hard on breathing,
    Until nothing hurts right now.

    Or is it only temporary?

    Is it true,
    That the more I push it away,
    The stronger the effect it will have on me,
    When it finally comes back.

    Like a tsunami,
    The waves go backwards first,
    Until you see no sea.

    But when it returns,
    Everything goes underwater.

    I close my eyes,
    Giving up,
    I’m pulled under.

    But no,
    A little part of me wants to keep fighting.

    “Look at me.”

    The image in the mirror would say to me.

    “Just breathe.
    Everything will be okay.
    Trust me.”

    And so,
    I breathe.

    But I don’t trust me,
    Not anymore.