The more I think about it, the more I realize the truth in that statement. Breathing is boring. Day in, day out — inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Do it again, and again, and all over again.
Until — you reach a point where you don’t do it anymore. And — that’s all.
It’s like commuting. Like taking the bus to work; you keep going until you reach your destination, and once you’re there, that’s all. At least until the next day.
Breathing is a lot like commuting to work. For a few days, it’s interesting; you’d become aware of everything around, you’d identify some of the strain, you’d enjoy the view, go quick in some areas, and take it slower in some others.
But once you’re used to it, once you know what to expect, and the schedule by heart, it gets boring. You’d crave something more. Something more than the unnerving steadiness — of the commute, and the breathing.
Something to excite, something to raise the heart beat, a good dose of adrenaline. Without that, breathing is boring.
We need a change, a rush, a thrill. We need a life. A life that’s more than the 9–5 clock in and clock out. A life that’s more than going home to an empty life just because you have to. Because there’s no point breathing like that.