My lungs weren't working right.

I started feeling light-headed and dizzy. I realized that I wasn't breathing. Not because I couldn't, but because the little part of my brain that keeps me breathing wasn't working.

My lungs would not start burning and my brain would not tell my diaphram to drop.

So I inhaled deeply because that's what I needed to do. I exhaled slowly. And I didn't do it again. I waited to see if I would just do it because that's what normally happens. Because my body usually breathes without me having to do anything.

Some time elapsed. I started feeling light-headed again. So I inhaled and exhaled a few times. I was fine.

Why wasn't this simple, involuntary bodily function working?

Since I couldn't tell if and when I needed to breath, I just started to do it constantly like in yoga.

I noticed that the windows in the car around me started to fog up. Obviously, I was breathing too much now.

So I stopped breathing before anyone else noticed that I was fogging up the windows. Why wasn't my body self-regulating my breathing? Why was it suddenly a conscience effort?

A voice floated around the car. "The windows are fogging up," it said. Crap! They noticed. Would they know that it was me who fogged up the windows?

How long had it been since I last inhaled? Was it time to breath in again? Because it was a bad time. The windows were still foggy. If I breathed, they'd get worse. If I didn't breath, I might suffocate.

Where was the balance? This beathing is too big. This breathing is too small. Couldn't find the breathing that was just right.

Maybe I needed my inhaler. But that didn't seem right. Breathing wasn't diffcult. I just required thought.

Breath in. Count to five. Breath out. Count to five. Breath in. Out. In. Out.

I soon exited the muggy car and was hit by the cool, night air. It shocked my body back into its old ways. And again I could breath without thinking.

Not a moment to soon, too. Because walking and trying to regulate my oxygen intake at the same time would have been too much.