I did not die, and yet I lost life’s breath

I wanted to cry but I didn't, I probably should have cried, I should have drowned us there in the room ending our suffering.

"I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't crying."

With one long breath, caught and held in his chest, he fought his sadness over his solitary life. Don't cry, you idiot! Live or die, but don't poison everything...

We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe

I wish I hadn't cried so much!

I don't cry. Unfortunately, I seem rather short of tears, so my sorrows have to stay inside me.

And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again...

I cried so hard after I put my cat to sleep. I guess I shouldn’t have cried so hard, because with all my sobbing, I ended up waking it up.

I let out the breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding since he started to move in my direction.

I never inhaled.

I debate whether or not to hold my breath. Is the massive, wheezing inhalation that follows worse than all the small little puffing breaths I might take instead? (I often debated this when a squad mate would lay a fart with a howl of laughter. Breathe normal? Or put it off and then risk sucking that fart so deep into your lungs that it stays there forever, little fart cells melding way inside the core of you?)

I tried deep breathing, but seemed to lose contact with myself between each breath, so that the next one was always an emergency. I began to feel faint.

She cried a little, but only inside, because long ago she had decided she didn't like crying because if you ever started to cry it seemed as if there was so much to cry about you almost couldn't stop, and she didn't like that at all.