Spiders didn't always build webs. They used to live under leaves or piles of twigs. But one spider in particular was not content with her home. She wanted a safe path to see the world. Every time she tried to step outside, her feet would be blown out from under her. "I need something sticky to secure me," she thought. She stuck sap to her legs and began her journey across a narrow piece of bark. However, not far from her home, the wood gave way under her and she tumbled to the ground. Unharmed and undeterred, she turned back the way she came and starting planning once more."I need something more sturdy," she said. As she crawled back into her home, she remembered the silk that mother spiders use to protect their young. "It's sticky enough to stay put, and sturdy enough to hold the eggs." She began to gently weave her own silk, and lay it out in front of her. After many days of work, she had developed several delicate paths that she could venture with ease. The spider could travel wherever she wanted, and she could always rely on the strings to keep her safe and lead her back home.

My mother taught me how to breathe.

It may seem like a simple thing. So trivial, in fact, that we all do it constantly without ever giving it another thought. Thousands of times each day, we cycle the air through our lungs. But sometimes, our emotions overwhelm us, and we find ourselves suffocating. When you're crippled by your own tears, or blindsided by pain and fear, you forget how to do the very thing you need. No matter how uncontrollable the world feels, just pause for a moment, close your eyes, and breathe.

I am happy.

For the first time in my life, I am genuinely happy. Not for a second, not for a breath, but a genuine, persistent happiness. Things are going well, and yet . . .

I find myself worrying. Every moment is spent on the edge of my seat, with a shaking body and bated breath. When will things go wrong? What could happen that will send it all downhill? Do I deserve these positive feelings?

I am anxious. I am afraid. One day, my entire world could start falling apart.

But for now, for today, I am happy.

By this point, I had long since gotten used to the deafening silence that fell flat against my ears.

The last real sound I heard was that unpleasant ringing. Not that of a phone or a doorbell, but a single long, piercing tone, like nothing I had ever heard before. Despite that, I could still understand the sounds around me. I could feel their chatter rumble the air. I could sense the excitement that lingered on the end of their words, and gather each dark shiver of the player's guitar. I knew their thoughts without them saying a word.

I could imagine every little sound. The rush of the train, the warble of the overhead speaker, even the soft squeak of the fabric cushion as I sat down. I clung to the memory of a past when words were heard and not watched. The sounds in my mind did nothing but help me cope. They could not be heard by another being, and I had no way of knowing how real they were.

I couldn't percieve sound, and I refused to produce sound. It was almost as if I didn't exist, until the moment I heard her voice pierce through the silence.