I’m not so good at coping.

My chest is an open sucking wound. My head is filled with tick-ticking timers. I’m trying not to shake from the pressure I’m under, but I can’t help but waver. My heart is stuttering in its cavity and, please, can I get some help?

Trying to focus on breathing but all of my air comes in gasps. Life hits me like a wave and I’m being swallowed up in its depths. My fingers have fallen beneath the surface and I have no strength to get myself once again afloat. And, again, I ask please, can someone help?

I hate this thing called life and I’m not so sure I’m any good at it. But how can I stop when it’s unstoppable without a force halting it?

So far there are assumed days stretched out before me and – I can’t breath – it seems impossible. A trek in the dessert without any water; a jump in the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim.

And how can I stray from the planned out path when there are no others laid out? There are no dirt roads to take, there are no trails only covered with leaves. Blank space and hard bricks that tell me where to go. But how can I step when I find no comfort in the cool stone? How can I continue when each step pulls me further down in this wide fear?

I’m scared of the water; I’m so scared of downing.


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