I Hold My Breath Too Long

I sit there in silence.
The clock ticks.
Eyes seem to watch me from everywhere,
From the closet,
From the folds of my sleeves,
From the face of the screens.

I hide from my own hands.
I hate the sound of my own breath going into my lungs.
So I hold my breath...

And the worry begins to build... I can't breath, I can't breath... my mind begins to race... I can't stop thinking, I can't stop thinking! Everything is rushed and pointed, like a arrow into my throat, into my ears, my eyes, the point between my shoulder and my chest-plate... I hate the sound of everything...

Responsibility! Responsibility! I can hear the ball and chain being ready to put it's shackle on me... Everyone is depending on you... it whispers as it scrapes the ground... I fill my mouth with whatever I can fit inside, trying to eat up the noise, the room itself, my thoughts my feelings, trying to make myself big enough to fit my problems inside, but its no use... I am trying to drink up the river that carved the Grand Canyon, and it is pointless... I stand on shaky feet. This will not kill me...

And all of a sudden, I realize... I was not breathing...
Slowly, I fill my lungs with air.
Do not steady me!
I must breath for myself!
I cry myself to sleep.
I am foolish.

I hold my breath too long.