My Own Air

by Violet V. · 29/12/2025
Published 29/12/2025 16:50

Three AM, the house a hollow bone.

And then, the rasp.

My own breath.

In and out, in and out.


Like a secret engine, failing.

A whisper that won't stop.

Filling the dark room,

filling my head.


Not a sigh.

Not a rest.

Just the constant friction

of existing.


Each pull, each release,

a small, harsh testament.

To what? To just being here.

Too loud.

#breath #existential anxiety #existentialism #insomnia #night

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