Im drowning. I'm sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Down here it's dark, there's no light. No hope. All noises are muffled, almost mute. My screams for help are mute. I can't even move, I feel like I'm suffocating. The only things here are little creatures, that come by and pull me farther down. Deeper, deeper and deeper until it's pitch black. At this point I feel like I'm not even alive anymore. All I can do is cry in the dark silence. It feels like chains are pulling me slowly, infinitely down a bottomless pit.
There's no noise. There's no hope. The happy face my mask bears is only hiding the cracked porcelain doll underneath. My friends can't see past my mask, they can't see past the light.
There's other people down here too, but they eventually float. They learn to swim, and I watch them. I try to copy them but it only seems to make the ocean pull me more.
By now, I've forgotten what light is. My ears can't recall a single song. I'm blind, I can't picture anything in my mind. And my heart wonders what it's like to feel hope. No one really knows. All they see is a smiling face, hiding so much. They think this smiling face has it good. They think that face loves itself. They don't think it's lying. They're wrong.
Soon enough, it's hard to tell whether you're drowning in water or in tears. The weights get heavier, and the emptiness spreads. People say it gets better but it just sounds like white noise.
Will I ever hear a song again? Will my lungs fill with air once more? Will I ever float? Will I ever be free? Will I ever love myself? Will someone ever love me?
Will I be okay?
Turns out I won't. Turns out life picked me to be the victim. So there I go. Down to the bottom. No one can save me. I won't survive. You think someone saves you but they don't. They end up pulling you up a little bit and letting go because the burden of you is too heavy. You have too many problems. You're to broken, unfixable. You've been sunken deep far to long and are rotting. No one likes rotting things. They can't see very well, so they think it's a treasure. But it's just a piece of something that's overgrown with plants. It's better left alone. Down deep. In the dark. No hope, and no happiness.
It's happening now. My lungs are getting full of water, I can't breathe. I'm shaking I'm losing it. I'm lost. Emotionless. Just a rusty, overgrown thing. No one wants me. All I do is upset people. They want treasure, not a price of garbage.
I'm not okay.
