Saturday, March 2, 2013
It's like drowning only different-because you CHOSE to put your head under the water. And
no matter how much it hurts, each time you try to hold your breath longer and longer.
Until there's no more air in your lungs. Until the rest of your body gives out and it's only
that tiny little part of your brain that still thinks life deserves another try that remains. But
you don't believe it. Because you've given it another try, over and over again. Each time you
lift your head above the waves and coughed up the water-made room for the air that now
flowed freely- and took deep breaths til you couldn't even taste the water anymore, you
felt alive. But you also felt empty. Weightless. Like the water had to be in your mouth, in
your lungs, fighting the oxygen that tried to get through, it had to be there to hold you
down. Or else you'd float away. The water in you and around you made you feel sane. Kept
you normal in front of your friends. Your family. The strangers you met daily. This is how I
feel. Except the water around me, isn't water. It's blood. And each time I let it flow
through me, out of me, I know that I won't float away. I know I'll stay sane. At least for
another day. Or until I find a better way.
