There is a voice I hear in my head.

The familiarity of it's demands leaves an ache in my forehead.

It forces me to stand up and try again, and again, and again.

It tells me to reach higher above the clouds and into the galaxies of possibilities or else I will be low into the ground of soiled promises.

It cannot be silenced for it is engrained in every neuron that fires in my brain.

I wonder what would happen if I didn't listen but instead worked at my own leisure in my meadows of thought.

What would become of me?

Would I melt into an unabled thing that trudges along or would I lose the will to create a life that isn't what people see in the future?

Would I become a piece of lint floating through the air and time?

The voice has silenced me with the fear of being without it. It has silenced me with fear of barely skimming the surface of what could be.

The voice doesn't tell me to drown, it tells me to swim even when I want to lie still.

It is the will to keep going.

In the world of colors, I was a deep purple. A dark cloud in the midst of a golden palace - royal tinged with a sadness that blocked rays of light with a deep gray. My dark thoughts twisted around oak trees and into the roots of this one world. It is not be assumed that all was depressing but comfortable. There were rarely rainstorms for the self rarely allowed drops to fall from one's face. Just deep, heavy clouds.

What is this new world that I am in? A big, glass room that reflects the burning sun as it beings to rise. The self has dug its heels into the start of a sunrise. Highlighted with fury, my thoughts bounce off the glass and into my body, jolting with energy. I have yet to see the sun fully rise as I am stuck with the burning sky. One day, the heat ooze out onto the earth and crumble the glass, forcing the self to contend with what comes next. But right now, every inch of my skin is soaking up the blazing sun that it had missed so much. Maybe a full rise isn't welcome right now, but it will be one day.

Poets love words.

We love the meaning that goes behind every verb, noun, and adjective. We rely on words. We rely on them to convey our emotions and thoughts into pieces of poetry that whistle in the wind and into the horizon. We utilize hyperboles and transform the world into a canvas of color. We don't just tell our partners we love them, we tell them that they are luminous. We feel. We feel deeply. Every letter, every word, every sentence seeps into our crevices as we release them to the earth. We unravel the power within speeches. We.. we.... we just love words.

Look at the presentation and focus. Biochem stuff, cool.
  Maybe he is gay.
Stop.
  He had an awakened moment last summer. He said it.
Everyone is looking at you. Blink!
  Is that why he’s so private?
Pay. Attention.
  I hope he’s ok.
Everyone keeps staring.
Why do I care if people are staring?
People are noticing. Say something.
  Who cares, you’re high. Just laugh or something. Keep thinking like
  this. Bring in all the bad thoughts.
Maddy is talking to you, nod your head.
  My heart is speeding up. Ask for help.
People will feel uncomfortable.
  You need water.
Don’t be an inconvenience.
  Stand up and go to your room.
Don’t make a scene.
  Why can’t I just do what I want?
Stay put.
  Nobody knows who I am because I mask myself.
Look at the screen.
  Who am I?
Look!
  Am I me or what others see? I don’t know what’s right.
Keep your mouth shut and pay attention.
  Tell April that you aren’t ok.
Stop making this about yourself.
  My ex-boyfriend might be gay. I want to reach out. My heart is
  beating.
Show a reaction.
  My heart is beating really fast.
Don’t-
  Why can’t I just do what I want without worrying about the others.
  What is the real me? Who is the real me talking right now? I don’t
  know what’s happening. Who am I? WHO AM I?
Don’t forget to blink.

Do you ever sit and listen to yourself breathe?

We take an average of 16 breaths per minute. That's 23,040 breaths a day, or 46,080 inhales and exhales if you must.

But I don't think about this.

I don't think about my internal ***** systems that connect with the outer forces to push out air from my lungs 23,040 times a day.

But maybe I should, or we should.

Maybe we should take a minute everyday and hear ourselves breathe, reminding ourselves our bodies and earth have somehow created a perfectly balanced atmosphere for our inhales and exhales.

I don't know if that's miraculous or if the universe is just that good, but it's something worth pausing for, and breathing for.