sombre

feverfew eulogies

08:56 AM - saturday august 28th

it's late august‚ and the air is thick with the promise of decay. i can feel it in my lungs‚ each breath a little heavier‚ a little more difficult to catch, like the world is slowly sinking into itself. i can't tell if it's the heat pressing down on me or the weight of something unseen-something that clings to my skin‚ a dampness that won't dry‚ a whisper that won't quiet.

there's a buzzing in my ears‚ faint but persistent‚ like a swarm of invisible insects flitting just beyond reach. it's always there now‚ just under the surface of my thoughts‚ filling the spaces where silence used to live. i used to love the quiet‚ the way it wrapped around me like a cocoon‚ keeping the world at bay. but now the quiet is a void‚ a vacuum that sucked the air out of my lungs‚ leaving me gasping for something solid‚ something real.

i haven't left the house in days-maybe weeks. the walls feel safer‚ their closeness like a fortress against whatever it is that waits outside. the windows are shut tight‚ curtains drawn‚ and still‚ the world seeps in through the cracks‚ a relentless tide of sound and light that i can't escape. the walls used to be my shelter‚ but now they're closing in‚ each day a little tighter‚ a little more suffocating‚ as if they know what's coming and are trying to crush me before it arrives.

i think about drowning a lot lately. not the peaceful‚ slipping-away kind‚ but the thrashing‚ panicked kind‚ where your body fights even as your mind accepts the inevitable. it feels like i'm drowning in slow motion‚ the water rising inch by inch‚ creeping up my legs‚ my chest‚ my throat‚ until all that's left is a single breath‚ held tight and trembling‚ waiting for the moment it will be stolen away.

the doctors say it's just anxiety‚ just paranoia‚ just a symptom of a mind that's too tired‚ too worn down. they don't see the faces in the mirror‚ the way they shift and blur when i look too long. they don't hear the voices‚ faint and distant‚ calling my name from the other side of the walls. i try not to listen‚ but sometimes i think i hear them say things that make sense‚ things that explain the buzzing‚ the suffocation‚ the drowning. and that terrifies me more than anything.

it's the end of august‚ and i am going backwards. the days are longer now‚ stretching into endless twilights where time itself seems to melt and warp‚ like the air shimmering over hot asphalt. i can't trust the clocks anymore-they tick too fast or too slow‚ their hands spinning in circles that don't match the sun. i'm not sure when the nights begin‚ or if they ever really end. there's a shadow that falls across the room at odd hours‚ slipping through the cracks in the walls‚ and i swear i can see it moving‚ reaching for me.

i don't know how much longer i can hold on. the water is up to my neck now‚ my body heavy and sluggish‚ every movement an effort. the buzzing has grown louder‚ more insistent, and the voices-they're clearer, closer. i hear them even when i cover my ears‚ their whispers sliding through my fingers like smoke‚ curling around my thoughts‚ filling them with dark promises and bitter truths. they tell me there's no escape‚ that the drowning is inevitable‚ that the only way to stop it is to give in‚ to let go.

and maybe they're right. maybe it's time to stop fighting‚ to stop pretending that the surface is still within reach. maybe it's time to sink‚ to let the water close over my head and drag me down into the quiet‚ into the dark‚ where the buzzing and the voices and the faces in the mirror can't follow. maybe it's time to surrender to the drowning days of late august‚ to let the world take me‚ inch by inch‚ until i disappear completely.

but i can't. not yet. not while there's still a part of me that remembers what it was like to breathe‚ to feel the sun on my skin‚ to walk in a world that didn't feel like a waking dream. so i'll hold on‚ just a little longer‚ even as the water rises‚ even as the walls close in‚ even as the voices whisper that it's all for nothing. i'll hold on‚ because maybe-just maybe-there's still a way out.

and if not . . well‚ then i'll drown on my own terms.