Inhale, Exhale– Think

Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

I’ve been here before: the neverending back and forth, the skeptic in the mirror asking all the wrong questions. 

Where, why, when, wtf? 

I’m half asleep, my body almost drifting into a dream, but I can’t waste another minute. So I ignore the fatigue and splash water on my face, I cup some in my hand and rinse my mouth, I squint my eyes a dozen times. Good enough.

Finally, like a long-awaited finale, I ask myself a question worth thinking about: what should I do differently today?

Now that’s something worth spending time on. If I’m to answer truthfully than I should not answer too quickly. I should give myself time. I should breathe.

Inhaleexhaleinhaleexhale– breath. 

“Think.”

The entire day is spent walking circles in my room. Blindly finding my way downstairs into the kitchen. Thoughtlessly searching for something to eat — something; anything.

“Think.”

I bury my fingers into my beard, I scratch dandruff from my scalp, then I pause for a moment — I have an idea. A moment later my vision begins to blur, my balance– failing.

“THINK DAMMIT!”

Perhaps I should sit down.

I sat and stared out from the dining room table into the living room, the kitchen and then the dirty plates in the sink. From there I was drawn back into my seat and felt that I had become smaller. I continued to be pulled closer to the cushion underneath me.

Like an unwanted embrace, a strong hug from someone bigger than you, a stranger. Movement is exhaustive; the thought of — pointless.

I begin to fall deeper into the seat, and if I could fall any deeper I would continue the descend forever. Still now, falling. 

I felt small because there wasn’t much room. No space for my arms, and the same my legs. I could not see beyond my fingertips.

My strength returns and I stand. But the strange vibe continues as I enter the kitchen. Because now the sink is dry and empty. The counters are clean with the scent of Fabreze. I feel the same, but the entire kitchen looks different and there’s someone in it. Someone I don’t recognize. Something unrecognizable. 

The walls stretch away from me, the tiles fall from their place into a deep pit of empty space, black and void, nothing. Yet somehow I remain balanced. My vision spins, and the world rotates the opposite.  

Then, suddenly, I am no longer than, and I regain my vision. But my surroundings are different, yet familiar. I’m back in bed, still half asleep, drifting back into a dream.  

I think. 

Author: Jona

Jonathan is a Health and Wellness Content Writer. Devoting his time to increase exposure to the general public of the importance of living a healthier lifestyle, both inside and out. His primary goal is to enrich the lives of those he's fortunate enough to reach. Jona has more than five years of writing experience with a little over a decade spent on learning the fundamentals of health and wellness.

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