There’s a breath
I didn’t know I was holding.
For most of my life.
I thought tension was normal.
That care meant contortion.
That love was something you proved
by what you were willing to give up.
But lately—
in the space between
who I was
and who I’m becoming—
I’ve learned to stop holding my breath.
Not all at once.
But in slow,
almost accidental sighs.
Like loosening the grip on a rope
you’ve held so long,
you forgot it was cutting you.
Some versions of me were survival.
Some, performance.
Some were just a child
trying to earn
what was already mine.
I’m not angry about that anymore.
Well—
not always.
There’s grace in the middle.
And that’s where I stop disappearing.
These days—
I move slower.
Ask questions
that don’t beg to be answered.
Say “no”
without explaining.
Say “yes”
without permission.
Let silence be
what it is.
Because in the space between
what I clung to
and what I can’t quite see yet—
I’ve found myself
not needing to be
so easily explained.
There’s more of me now.
And less I need to prove.
About the Author
Robert M. Ford is a writer, strategist, and co-founder of Toolsie, an AI-powered platform making technology more intuitive, personal, and human-centered. He also leads Reverie House, a literary imprint focused on emotionally resonant storytelling. His work—whether through poetry, fiction, or the tools he builds—explores memory, identity, and the quiet moments that shape who we’re becoming. More at brittleviews.com.
Loved it Robert !