I remember learning how to swim. I was 8 years old, my first time without a life jacket in pool. I was using a water board when my brother came under the water and grabbed it from me. I immediately went down. I felt the water fill up my nose and when I yelled it just let more water in. I couldn't get to the surface, it felt so far away.
I remember how tight my chest felt, like I would never breathe a breath of fresh air ever again. And to this day my chest still feels the same way.
Everyday I bind my chest, wanting to be someone who I know I will not be. I can't help it anymore, I have to keep doing it. Without binding my chest everyone looks at me, their stares dragging me down.
They drag me deeper into this hole that I have built for myself and the surface feels so far. I can't get to it. This hole is too deep but I can't seem to put down the shovel. I let the dirt cover me and I panic when I realize it is ash. The few moments of comfort are gone.
And in loosing my comfort I have lost all feelings. I let myself feel nothing, letting every part of me slip away. I do not feel pain, I do not feel sadness, I do not feel joy, I do not feel happiness, I forget how to smile. Instead I plaster on this face that falls apart as soon as the camera is off.
I try to teach myself what is real and what is not but it is hard. So many conflicting words fill my ears, telling me that I am worth nothing yet worth the world at the same time. I can not recognize who is being honest and who is telling yet another lie. I let every word consume me in hopes that I can try and decipher what it means.
These words become my home, I build the walls out of each cheerful message but sleep in a bed made of slurs. I wait for someone to come wake me but when they do not I do not leave my bed. I let myself sink into the black hole of self loathing. And when I do, I do not take care of myself. I do not eat, I do not shower, I do not sleep. I can't sleep.
I stare at the ceiling, letting my mind wonder to the questions that I do not speak aloud. Who would attend my funeral? Who would cry the most? Who would find me? What if I never existed in the first place? Would people be happier? Would my friends still be alive?
I have been told I am the reason for their death. The words, your fault, have been used too often for me to ignore. And for that I am still punishing myself. I try to apologize but no one can hear you when you are dead. Until I get to the afterlife I will not be able to be heard.
I wish they could hear me. I wish those alive could hear me. I wish my voice mattered. I wish I was important enough for those to care. They say they care but yet I always seem to be the one who cares more. I worry more, I remind them to take care of themselves more. I give them dirt so they can get out of their hole, and I don't think they understand that within that I have dug my hole deeper down.
I will give them everything that I have until I am left with nothing but the clothes on my back and the breath of air in my lungs. That is until the breath is gone and is replaced with water and I try to get back to the surface. And when I do, I will try to swim and catch my breath. But then I remember, I was trying to learn how to swim.
