Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Just keep breathing.

And your heart feels like lead, and your chest is suffocating.

Breathe.

You're fine.

Everything's fine.

Breathe.

Your brain is whizzing and you feel dizzy.

Breathe.

Constraint and constricted, you can feel the words bouncing and popping all around you.

Failure.

You never fitted in the cookie cutter, never.

You are an unshaped blob of mistakes.

A mistake.

A disappointment.

Unwanted.

Your eyes sting and your eyebrow scrunch up.

Failure. Failure.

You're a fucking failure.

Stop. Stop. STOP.

Silence. Out of the stilled chaos and muted confusion in your head comes the same old recognizable train of thought.

It waves its hands and beckons you towards it, with a smile and warmth you've always desired:

Death.

And your heart soars and stills at the same time.

'Come on,' Death smiles.

And you feel so much relief as exhaustion settles through your veins.

You reach out for his extended hands, And Death welcomes you.

'Ready?'

And you stare right at Death's eyes. They're not black and unforgiving. No, they're brown and warm and kind.

All of a sudden, a cold chill creeps up your bones, and you can't.

You can't.

So you let go of Death's hand. And tears swim viciously across your vision, as you see Death's face; calm and understanding.

No judgment.

No anger.

Just Acceptance.

'Then, Breathe', instructs Death as he holds your face tenderly in his hands.

And just like that the chaos resumes and confusion amplified:

Mistake.

Disappointment.

Failure.

With a lead-filled heart and a tight chest, you silently pack away the thought, put it away like a worn out object on the shelf, always there and constant.

Then, you Breathe.