I don't know if i'm filled with love or hate. There's this constant nagging, pulling down in my chest. It's like my insides are turning into metal, weighing me down, til i'm an anchor; lying rusted and untouched in an ocean that's long been forgotten.
Water fills me from the inside. Tearing at my throat, surging through my veins; I have no blood anymore. It has washed out in the waves; diffused into the abandoned waters, to be once more overlooked by kindred spirits. I can't see the surface anymore.
I heave a sigh, as I often do. It's familiar. I have swum the dismal depths before; full of hate. This loathsome, wretched water holds no hope or joy that can be seen. Its only joys are moments my consciousness escapes me, though I still dream only of being awake.
I cannot see the end.
The end is near.
One day, I will dislodge my anchor from the quicksand it resides in. Maybe one day, I will escape from the abyss. Maybe one day I will breathe again. Maybe one day I will live.
