I live in my heartbeat, in the taste of my coffee, in the lightheaded awe of looking up at trees, in the wind on my skin, surprisingly cool on a bright summer morning, startling goose bumps.
I live in my sleep, in my watching the sunrise, in getting soaked by the rain, in the soft grass under my feet, in the solitary song of a nightingale, breaking the dark before dawn, when it's quiet.
I live in my passion, in my boredom, in my waiting, in witnessing the passing of seasons.
While I have breath, I live, in every soft exhale, still warm out of my lungs.
In every precious moment, and every mundane task a thousand times repeated, I live.
What do I plan on doing with my life, you ask? I plan to live.