Caught in a moment

The taste in my mouth is awful. Like I’ve been munching on rotten food for the last couple of hours. The air is heavy, almost solid.

It’s pressing against me from everywhere. The dirty white walls seem to come closer every time I move my eyes from them.

Time appears to have dissolved. All there exists is this moment. Each gasp for air stands on its own. The ones before have never happened and the ones after might never materialize.

So I live in the space of a single breath. My entire world lives and dies in a moment. And with every moment I am new. The old me dies, taking all the mistakes away, leaving me naked. In the next moment, I launch into the world, tasting the air for the first time. I do this like it is the only air I will ever be able to feel in my lungs. And as the air fills the deepest part of my chest, its consistency changes. It becomes as hard as steel. It pushes through my veins, against my skin.

Next, the pain comes. I want to scream. In my mind, I scream, but no sound comes out. And the pain is everywhere. My skin is ready to crack. But it doesn’t.

Just when I think I can’t endure anymore, it all stops. There is only blissful peace. And somehow, in my mind, all that occurred before, never existed. I try to prolong this peace for as long as I can, but I’m unable to do that.

It always ends, to leave place for the pain again.

I’m caught in this moment since the beginning of time. A struggle between heaven and hell that’s been going on inside my soul and my mind forever.

All I have is this and I’ll make the best of it. It’s tearing me to pieces with every breath and it makes me invincible with every breath. I now know the good and I know the bad. I make my way into a world where most people forgot how to be alive.

For being alive the pain is as important as the pleasure. We all breathe in the pain and pleasure, but instead of using them and letting them out, some hold on to the pain. And this drains the life out with every breath. The air pushes out life.