You feel the nothingness in the air as it slowly pierces your skin, it's some days that your anxieties reach their peak. It's some days that you feel so poetic about the nature of doing nothing. You appreciate the setting sun that leaks through your window and the calm that finally exists in your head. Waves don't crash, they carry. The illusion even helps you see the beauty of existing between these days. That life isn't about the crashing or the setting, but just the anticipation that finds its conscience in between. So, I breathe.