Every time I get my head above the water, every time I think I'm ok, I sink. It's almost as if my brain is split into two parts: my mind and my instinct to live. My mind becomes an anvil attached to my ankle, while the instinct to survive is in my head. People try to pull me out, and for a split second I can breathe. But then something happens. And I sink back down into the water. I'm trapped in the dark, unable to see. I keep sinking. I stop swimming. I let go. I lose consciousness it seems for months at a time. I wake up a little closer to the surface than I remember. I push myself closer to the thin shred of light at the top by forcing myself to interact. I attach myself to something floating in the water, such as a goal, and I work tirelessly to reach that goal. It pulls me up to where I can see what's around me in the murky water. And then it fails. I lose my grip. I slip again. I push again to the surface, my tears mixing with the water until I breach the surface. I'll keep my head above for a time. It'll seem like the problems I've been facing evaporate for a time. My family will get better and try to help me out, but then my dad will push them out of the way and shove me back down. My heart becomes almost as heavy as the anvil itself and I'll sink twice as fast. Some days it's better. Some days I can see in the water. Some days I can't. I've been under so long my skin no longer feels wet because I don't remember what it's like to be dry anymore. To be normal. To be happy. At this point I think I should just grow gills and webbed extremities. Accept my fate. But I know that once that happens I will never be able to return to what I once knew. I have a single shred of hope, no bigger than my finger nail. I cling to it for dear life. I know it's not going to save me, and that what I believe will help me pull through might fail in the end. But it's all I've got left. So when I hear the voices of the anvil trying to pull me down, I fight it. I don't always win, but I'd rather fight in hopes of seeing my dreams become reality than to give up without ever knowing what could have been
