The moment I was born I had to take on the challenge of breathing. My infant body didn't know better than to just breathe in, so I had to let my instincts do their work. I started to breath in, feeling the air rush against the back off my throat, somehow knowing I would not be able to go back into the comfort of my mother's womb. This is probably not the reason I cried when I was born, bet never the less, it probably was a weird sensation. I needed to breathe, because I needed to live. Without this seemingly invisible function of the human body, I would not be here typing this essay for this class in high school. I would be dead. This first breath would lead me to many others. My first correct answer in school was caused by my breath. My first trombone lesson needed my breath. My breath was my world. There were times when It ran away, when I needed it most. I had to run and catch my breath. When I started playing my trombone, every few seconds I needed to stop playing to catch my breath. This is not allowed in music. I eventually grew past this, growing a resistance to the need. This would be where some would say that my job was done, but it was far from it. For every breath in, there has to be one out. The air that fills my lungs was used and is now a waste product of the human body. I have to expel the carbon dioxide gas that builds up in my lungs. “HAAAAAAAAA.......” Ah, sweet relief of the build up. Never could get enough of it. My breathing certainly has had impacts on the people around me, just not in the way they expect. I can't say that I had any other reactions, now around other people. After all, it is just breathing.