daisy ☹ niall horan [au]

twenty - drowning

      I sat down in the tub, the water rippling around me.

      Every once in a while I would immerse myself deeper and deeper in to the water. And with each movement, I would continue to think about all of the mistakes in my life, and how it could have all been different.

      Maybe if I wouldn’t have gone to that party, I never would have met him.

      Maybe if I wouldn’t have gotten high, I wouldn’t have gotten hooked.

      Maybe if I wouldn’t have done the things I have, I wouldn’t have ended up here.

      And, with each thought, I kept falling down in to the black void inside of myself and the water soon surrounded me, my lungs burning from lack of oxygen.

      I didn’t open my eyes and I wouldn’t have, if the memory of freshman year didn’t enter my mind. I thought back to Niall’s letter, about what he said and thought when he first saw me... and I started remembering.

      So, I ended up opening my eyes and forcing my head above the water, coughing relentlessly.

      I almost died and I wouldn’t have cared if it weren’t for him.

      And I was reminded of something:

      It was back in junior year when I was feeling sad and depressed and I just so happened to be watching Teen Wolf. And Stiles... he started talking about what it feels like when you’re drowning.

“you know,

when you’re drowning

you don’t actually inhale

right before you

black out.

It’s like

no matter

how much

you are freaking out, the

instinct

to not get any water in is

so strong

that you won’t

open your mouth until

you feel like

your head is

exploding

but then

when you finally do let in,

that’s when

it stops hurting.

it’s not scary anymore.

it’s actually kinda peaceful.”

      And since then, I decided that if I had to die, I wanted to drown; that I wanted to die in the water.

      And, now that I had the chance, I didn’t do it.

      Because he stopped me.

      So, I forced myself out of the water, quickly letting it all go down the drain as I wrapped myself up in a towel, and trudged over to my desk.

      I got a pen and a piece of paper, and on it, I wrote this down.

She pretends sometimes when she is in

The bath and her head is buried beneath the water

That she is floating aimlessly beneath the sea.

She keeps floating down

And down and every “beautiful memory” she

Has ever carried washes over her eyelids.

It is when they are over,

All the beauty has vanished from her mind,

That she realizes she is dying:

Softly and suddenly.

Then, right before her

Body seems

To dissolve

Into the sea,

She thinks of him,

And her head

Lifts from

The heavy, but

Gentle

Water.

[Christopher Poindexter]