it's still not control by camo

It's strange that your breath is never a conscious thought until you can't seem to catch it. It can't run from you but things leave it just beyond reach. Sometimes it's beautiful like your soon-to-be-wife walking down the aisle at you, or the birth of your child. But more often it's only truly missed in times of struggle or fear. A man you didn't see puts a couple pounds of steel to your head threatening high velocity lead or your mom comes off her horse at the rodeo. You didn't think about the bollowing of your lungs until panic held them still and stole your control. Or how about that time you heard a familiar voice scream your name in their own panic and by the time you rushed there and rescued them you noticed your vision fading from the edges like a vignette in a noir movie until... and you wake up, painfully aware that suddenly air is coursing through you in great gasps. You don't know how long it's been but you know and notice at the forefront of your mind for the first time in so long that you have your breath firmly gripped. You still don't feel in control but you notice. It's there and this time you're thankful.