airing your dirty laundry || accepting!
     âSometimes, I dream of the sea.â
     âItâs strange. I rarely sleep at all these days - canât afford to, donât deserve the luxury. But it takes me from time to time, ân every time itâs the same thing. Just me and the big wide ocean, churning around me.â
     âAinât ever liked the sea, really. Almost fell in a river and drowned when I was small. Thatâs the kinda thing that happens when youâre built like me, but that doesnât matter. Iâm not here to talk about that. The waterâs always blue, this royal navy thatâs typically reserved for things that ainât water, capped with white tides. Hypnotic, in a way, the way that only things that donât exist can be. It pools around my ankles, beckoninâ me in. And no matter how I try to fight it, I always proceed.â
     âThe water goes up to my knees, then my waist, and I keep walkinâ forward. Maybe Iâll drown if I walk, I think, but it never happens. Under the waterâs like heavy air, that sits in your lungs and weighs you down, but itâs still breathable. Hmph. Thereâs probably metaphor in that.â
     âAnâ in the water, everything is clear, and I hear a litany of voices. If I listen closely, it almost sounds like theyâre singinâ. Come join us, Hoshi-kun, they say. We miss you so much. And I sink down to my knees, and I try to reach outâŠâ
     âBut it always collapses, and Iâm sent hurtlinâ into nothingness or jolting awake all sweaty, shakinâ like nothing ever before.â
     âSometimes, I dream of the sea, and itâs callinâ me. And Iâm tempted to answer.â
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