I stood on the precipice and my foot slipped. It was just instinctual how I regained my balance. My heart remained steady. I didn’t care. I was there, standing on the edge. I wasn’t sure whether to go for a quick run straight into the abyss, or have a seat and think. One more decision, one more bad decision, and I don’t think I can take it anymore.
He felt it?-again, he always remembered being on the edge, and tried to take a deep breath. It was centering in his chest. His heart pounded and his legs started to bounce. He folded his arms behind his head. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to concentrate on his diaphragm. He bent his neck to look at his chest. Nothing seemed to work. Nothing! His face was contorting. It had crossed the blood barrier and turned to screaming frigging pain. Blinding pain!
He had to try to stand. His fists clenched. He pounded them on his desk. He had to catch his breath. He opened his mouth, only to let out an empty scream. Nothing. Nothing is working. Again, and again he tries.
He finally does it. As he stands-up his breathing starts. He pulls his arms in a ‘boxer’s pose’ and starts jabbing his arm in the air. Down deep now, he gives the air a menacing body blow. He’s screaming for air. He pulls up for the uppercut. He does it again; to the body to the head. Now he doubles up on the body and rips the uppercut.
...He grabs a blanket, folds it twice, and lies on it. The breathing is everything. It is everything! He knows this. He counts to ten as he inhales. Slowly now, lying on his back, he exhales while pulling his knees to his chest. Now just deep breaths he takes, but slowly in and slowly out. He stretches it out. He’s thinking about his breathing.
He’s ready …
The End
