N/A Air

I am bursting. I want to do everything, anything but I am incapable of nothing. I am like the hanging man, waiting and waiting for my own potential, my own development to come to fruit;  but instead I self -sabotage in a cage of my own making.  I have a noose around my ambitions; my excitement and thrive dying as I pull the rope tighter and tighter until I am left with nothing.

It's cold outside. But the house feels worse; the air is smokey, cloudy and suffocating. Breathing outside, even in the cold, endorses and releases a new energy in my body; I feel my chest stretching and embracing what I imagine to be clean air.

I always had an image of air and its feeling as cleansing. Its soothing hushing sound and cooling touch makes me calm, less agitated. I can sit for hours, in-front of a fan, listening to its slow hustling sound.