I'm from an open hand and a friendly smile

I'm from hard laughs and cheery hellos

I'm from good mornings and good nights and everything in between them

I'm from all of that because it is what I give to the people around me. Blessed by the strangers that by the grace of day get to echo some melody into my being.

I'm from an open mind, open beginnings, and an open book.  That when I speak my words they are an opening that few have ever taken.

I'm from shut in Mondays and shut in Tuesday all the way to shut in Sundays.  Where the sun rises only when my eyes begin to close.  

I'm also from no sleep any day everyday as my mind wonders to the places that it should not go.  That when I imagine my mind it looks like a little girl in red.  It kind of plays out like a story some fable that I play for myself repeatedly.  The child always putting their head in a wolves mouth even though they know better.  Because my story is based off of life and no huntsman ever comes to save them.

I'm from facing the truth that when a child goes into the woods alone they come out missing something or they never come out at all.

I'm from children know best, but also know worst.  Children know how to start the day with an open hand and a friendly smile but they don't know not to put their head in a wolves mouth.  

I'm from every child that ever got stuck in those **** woods, because they are the thoughts of mine that I reread over and over.

I'm from story telling that doesn't know when to stop  That when fiction blends itself into my own book I struggle to see my way through the thick of woods.  

When the story ends. Where does life begin.

When I take in air it doesn't feel so light.
It's full of the things you'd never want to go down your throat.
Its feels as if the air has changed to the hottest sauce I could ever imagine.
That with each inhale and exhale my mouth and throat burn.
They burn to such extremes that I feel like an out of shape boy after a run.
A boy that does not know that he is not built to run this way.
As I take in more air it only adds to the intensity.
Doing as what oxygen does and igniting flames.
My lungs have become these hostage negotiators.
The Hostage is myself.
As they decide whether I can breathe or simply gasp for the heat.
They tighten me up and begin to straggle me.
Just like the time I was smothered by my brother.
They just don't know when to stop.
Not realizing when it's no longer a game.
My eyes start to flutter as my whole body begins to shift.
This moment feels as if an eternity the same as watching sand glide with the wind.
A simple breeze where the wind seems most at peace.
An empty land where only the gust of wind exist.
I only feel the light droplets of rain right after the lightning bolt strikes.
It begins at my head and slowly trickles down the rest of me.
Moistening only the back of my head as I face the sky.
My lungs negotiated what they wanted so dearly.
I gave in to their final request.
The air has become as light as they say it is.
Taking one final deep breath.
My final thoughts on this day were those of the pleasant wind.