Staring thoughts

Last night, laying on the bed, I stared at the ceiling fan. The dust collected on the edges of the blades did not move. It was so still the shadow cast on the ceiling was perfect, blending into the popcorn pattern behind it. My eyes slowly moved across the room and I saw that everything was still. Nothing was moving... Then, I heard the rain, small water droplets pounding against the hard brick and cement outside the screen door. The sound of the rain, the sound of movement, contradicted the stillness of the room I was surrounded by. The only thing in the room moving was me, I realized. The rising and falling of my chest... breathing. I noticed my breathe began to shallow and it was as if I was trying to be still too. But then, unconsciously my rib cage expanded I inhaled a large breathe, a survival instinct. As my focus returned to water drops listening to the random symphonious sound, I realized... I am alive, I am living. Not by conscious action, but by instinct. Then my breathe began to shallow....