There have been days and moments when I'd just as soon give up - when the thought of taking one more breath seemed like a big fat waste of polluted air because for whatever reason I'd rather impale myself with a white flag than break through the mobs of idiots, naysayers, fuckwads, and doucheheads that stand in front of me, hands grasped firmly like in a game of Red Rover, taunting me to run so they can plant their sweaty fists into my gut as I'm thrust backwards onto my ass.
But then I think of my mother, holding my sweet dead sister in her arms. Maybe she was rocking her softly, tears dropping like a cascading waterfall on her head as she held her tightly. Or perhaps she was wailing, like someone had just pulled her heart right out of her chest as she watched helplessly.
And then suddenly I gasp and sputter, choking and coughing like I've been pulled lifeless from a pool. And I open my eyes and as my vision clears, I see what truly matters.
And I breathe again.