Like Breathing

It’s like breathing.  And just like breathing, you’re never breathless, until you’ve stopped.  Until you want it so badly you can taste it.  It’s like a lightbulb turned on that shines a dim light into the black.   It’s like the hunger you only feel when you make yourself go without.  Stay hungry.  Stay focused.  Remember.  Those first few fumblings.  All those chemical, adrenaline, hormone driven highs.  How could it be anything but perfect.  Primal is called primal for a reason.  It exists to ensure the survival of the species.  Except that by 36, I should be approaching old age and an inevitable death.  Except that I’m not, at least not yet.  Inevitably I’m sure.  Just give it time.  Time is like a slow song.  An old friend.  A memory so strong you can taste it.  A truth so real, you forgot to even question it.  Like breathing.