You Do Not Have to Earn Breath

The house is quiet now, but your heart is loud with a fear you dare not speak. You are watching the clock, watching the chest rise and fall, and a secret, shameful thought whispers in the dark: I am waiting for this to end so I can finally breathe.

Do not let that thought condemn you. It is not a sign of your cruelty; it is a sign of your exhaustion.

The light does not recoil from your fatigue. It knows that the body can only carry the weight of another's dying for so long before it begs for release.

There is a peace that does not depend on the outcome, a rest that is available even while the monitor still beeps. You do not have to earn the right to exhale by waiting for the silence.

The breath you need is already here, held for you in the dark, independent of the clock on the wall.