I probably won't be the first to say it, but this week has been crazy. I have gone through a whirlwind of tests, essays, meetings, volunteer events and a nasty bout of the flu. Somewhere in the downtime, I managed to find this week, I found myself turning back to an old poem of mine. Every time I read it, it gives me solace and comfort. The words give me hope and knowledge that sometimes, it's okay to not be okay. I thought that now would be a perfect time to share it with my readers. Keep in mind, while reading this, that not all poetry is the same. I have always found myself addicted to freestyle street poetry. The poems I write are in the same style as we think to ourselves. They are kind of like a one-sided conversation with your own mind.

Without further adieu:

why does the world seem

as if all the air has left?

as people talk about plans,

plans for a future

I do not yet see

for myself.

the future.

those simple words

they cause emotion and grief

the walls close in

at the words

"what are your plans?"

I'm breathing

but no air is finding my lungs

my chest heaves with the effort

that meaningless effort

to do one simple task

that has now become impossible.

what is my future?

do I have one?

where do I begin to look

for a place to begin something

that was never mine, to begin with?

the answer is simple

I will wait

I will watch

and I will survive.

because sometimes

you have to forget how to breathe

you have to forget how to live

in order to find yourself.