Feb 21

a plethora of questions & why i am the silence following them

“why do i have to make my bed every morning, again? it’s pointless, i just mess it up again at night.”

“why would you breathe if you’re just gonna die anyway?”

why do i breathe? ok. i breathe because living is something i want to do. so oxygen can sweep through my lungs and into my bloodstream into my heart into cells of tissue and organs, to carry my muscles onto the next mile. because that oxygen is there for more than allowing for blood to leak out of self made wounds. i breathe because there were fireflies in ancient greece and the gap between polaris and betelgeuse is exactly the size of my flashlight because i made it that way. for monarch wings and wax wings and airplane wings. because i still need to prove to myself the sun rises in italy, because there are books i need to read, because i’m going to hear my new favorite song tomorrow, and because even tomorrow, i’ll have today. i breathe because life is a choice, and i choose to breathe.

but make my bed?

no thank you.


“okay. fine.”