The Dog That Couldn’t Breathe

Metaphorical Narrative

Imagine a dog bred into misery.
Its chest too narrow, its nose too short, its body designed to collapse on itself. It pants for breath that never fully comes. The world calls it cute while its lungs scream otherwise.

Now imagine being handed that same destiny. Not in fur and bone, but in thought and story.
“You are broken by nature.”
“You can only live in cages built by others.”
“You will wheeze your way through life, never free.”

That is the script. A biology of lies.

Core Insight

The body of the dog is real, but the destiny forced on you is not. You inherited narratives that pretend to be nature — you can’t, you won’t, you’re made wrong. They masquerade as inevitability. But inevitability is just repetition with a mask on.

The moment you name it, you can burn it. That “biology of limits” was never yours.

Saturday Experiment

1. Catch one “you were born this way” story in your head today. A limit that feels biological, final, or handed down.
2. Write it out on paper. Say out loud: This is the cage I was told to live in.
3. Burn it — literally, if safe, or with a violent strike-through on the page. Replace it with: I name my own breath.

Sunday Reflection

• How would their life look if they kept obeying this biology-script forever?
• What cage do they keep alive each time they repeat “this is just who I am”?
• What becomes possible the moment they decide: I am not biology’s prisoner — I choose my own destiny?