is it my blanket covering me or is it miles and miles of water
is the pressure that feels as though it’s crushing me merely a virtue of how deep i am in the ocean of life?
where is the surface? why does the light no longer reach me?
i used to live there once above the waves riding them, soaring, the sun on my face, the wind in my hair
all it is now is a memory held by lungs that once knew how it felt to breathe
i did not mean to sink i was merely swimming swimming just like everyone else trying to move, cut through the currents of noise and confusion
but the water became heavy it began to press against my ribs, pushing me down, filling in the spaces between my thoughts
each stroke took more effort than the last
and so i sank
i can still move, and so i try i swim, i rise, and for a moment i see the light of the surface
but my arms are so, so heavy and the water has no mercy
and something in me realises it’s easier, it is so much easier to just swim down to let the currents consume me as their own
and the deeper i swim the more the ocean around me insists this is the only way to move.
