I know I can breathe. I’m breathing now but I’ve been convinced I’m suffocating since I woke up.
I reach for my phone scrolling through notifications I missed during my 3 hour sleep. My chest gets a little tighter. My notifications are always turned off, if my phone buzzes, rings or chimes it makes everything harder.
I end up deleting a couple of apps, an all too familiar ritual, hoping for calm.
It won’t come.
My legs feel weighted as I drag them out of my bed, still struggling to breathe.
I wish I knew the problem, I wish I could shake off my aimless worry, I wish my heart wasn’t in my throat.
I know I’ll be back in my bed soon, on heavy days like this, the weight of the compress on my chest keeps me under my covers resigned to perfecting the bare minimum; breathing.