“You were a miracle child.” They would tell her, but why didn’t she feel like one? Why did she feel like a mistake? Why did she have to let the tears fall with every overwhelming breath? Her lungs expanded quickly over something as small as an ant.

Sensitive souls are the most dangerous. They have this fire in them that could burn everything down within seconds. She tries to stay calm and do anything she can to breathe normally. But she’s never been normal. She’s never been able to breathe without her breath catching. One push after the other. She’s learned to live in survival mode, no matter where she goes. Her eyes always glance around, never to keep still. She’s learned to bottle her emotions inside, locking them away. Nobody likes a downer. These kids feed off reactions. Never let the emotions get to you. Never let them show. Never let them out. Lock them away and misplace the key.

The box opens. It breaks. It all shoots out at once at the worst times possible. She wants to scream but she can’t let it out. She wants to throw things but she’ll get punished. She wants to yell and kick but she has to stay calm. If she doesn’t let them out she’ll explode. Her chest feels heavy, her stomach feels light and tingly. Her mind is racing, her eyes turning cold. She doesn’t need to explode. She doesn’t need them to come out. But they do anyway. One tear, then two, and the dam broke. The river flows quickly down the smooth edges of her skin. Her mother’s words echo through her brain, calling her a miracle. But she doesn’t feel like one. Maybe she will, one day. Maybe, that day will be when she can finally breathe. Maybe, that day will be tomorrow. Or maybe,  it will be today. Some miracles happen when you aren’t paying attention.