My Lungs Still Work

Sometimes it seems as though I need to let out a yell just to know that I'm still in fact alive. I still breathe in and out in perfect succession. Blood still takes all the necessities of life through my body--from the heels of each foot to the very follicles that produce the hairs on my head (no blood flows through my hair just in case you were wondering--if it does for you, go to a hospital). It is in the moments of tension and hostility that a different sort of life emerges. Not that I look forward to these episodes of sharpened eyes and tongues, flushed cheeks and tightened fists. In fact, I dread them. However, reality is almost more than real when someone I love dearly draws such emotion from me that I raise my voice to a height that tells me I care. In that, I know I'm still alive.