I Write Like I Breathe

I Write Like I Breathe I write like I breathe without thinking, without asking permission. I write when the world gets too loud, when silence has too much to say, when a feeling sits in my chest and refuses to leave. I write about the girl who smiles when she wants to cry, the mother counting her money twice, the boy selling by the roadside, the dreamer whispering, “One day, I’ll make it.” I write what I see. I write what I feel. I write what people are sometimes too afraid to say. Maybe that is why my words are not perfect. They are alive. They carry pieces of ordinary lives, quiet battles, small joys, and stories that deserve to be heard. Because somewhere, someone might read my words and whisper, “This is exactly how I feel.”