I’ve lost control of the simple act of being able to breathe. I’m hyperventilating. “I don’t need you to show me how to breathe,” I say. “You don’t?” He looks skeptical. “I think I can handle the simple act of breathing without you.
We are all broken in some way. But it’s all the shattered pieces that give us depth. Like stained glass, it’s how the pieces and colors fit together that truly makes us beautiful.
