The Difference Between Breathing and Being Alive.

I hurt because I can, because I bleed a marvelous shade of wonderful and no one else can revel in the satisfaction that they have cut to me to the quick because trust is a valuable commodity, and is something I ran out of a long time ago so to say I might "recover" when I feel miles away from "fine" is a stretch, the same as the miles a cross country runner covers, growing short of breath (much like the panic attack I had the last time I let my heart be broken), and I know how it feels to be pushed to that edge between living and dying, to worry those simply because I have no tact, or, maybe, I just don't care, so perhaps apathy is my true crime because if we were to truly stop caring then wouldn't we, beyond a shadow of a doubt, cease to exist as to care is to feel and to feel is to live--








That said, I wonder if I am actually living or simply breathing for there is a distinct difference.