I think breathlessness is the wrong word. I understand why people use it, though. You glance over to the dimly lit face; the sun diminishes to a lowly street lamp. A shadow dances on their faces, bobbing with their steps. Their eyes twinkly in and out, fixed on the road, the people walking by. You realize your chest just took a smoke break, that must be that suffocating feeling. Your diaphragm removes itself from being, unable to handle a reality to bizarre and wonderful as to contain her in it. Your lungs aren’t empty – just the opposite. They’re full of her. Full of the terrifying power of overabundance. Like a bad horror story where someone dies from drinking too much water, from wanting too much of life. At some point you let her fill you, and you never let yourself deflate. It isn’t a bad way to go. After all, some of us die without knowing what its like to perish from a bright, bright light.