Buzzing around

Air

I don’t see the problem with living. With being happy. In this age where most teenagers cry themselves to sleep, slash their wrists and pick at their food, I don’t see why I should want to harm myself or admit defeat. Why don’t we stand up, and raise our fists, and scream, because the air is still rushing through our lungs, cold and sharp, and the blood is still pumping in our veins. Our hearts still beat. Our eyes see, our noses smell, our tongues taste, our ears hear. We are so alive! We are such beautiful creatures, each one of us a different color palette, a solution of millions of substances. Scream! Hear the sound of your voice ripping through the atmosphere. Open your eyes, look at everything around you. I don’t see the need to be depressed. Because whenever I step outside, when I take that first deep breath of harsh air, I know that I’m alive.