I almost drowned once.I was little,it was scary,it was brief.Taking into consideration that I didn't and still don't know how to swim,the whole thing was a bit...traumatic.
I remember the dirty vastness of the sea and my wide open eyes and the sheer rawness of so many feelings.But more poignant was the moment when I was pulled to the surface-that first new breath of air and the salty rashness at the back of my throat.It was both victory and defeat-I was alive,but I could have died.
That's how my life feels nowadays:almost hitting rock bottom,reaching upwards,clearing the memory of it like I would the sand on my feet.
The saddest part is that it's all in my head,apart from a few scattered "headaches" and "backaches" and "sad movie aches".Nobody can really know because nobody would really understand.
That's how it feels like,that's how it always seems to end up feeling like:a raspy and salty aftertaste,shaking limbs,relief intertwined with resentment.A lukewarm life in the midst of a circling storm that's permanently far away,yet unmistakably close.Something silent enough not to cause a stir,yet loud enough to be heard by the person that matters.
I'm not afraid of water,though.I'm an Aquarius,for Pete's sake!
That doesn't meant I don't cringe when I imagine a giant wave at the corner of every tall building.Or when I think about tomorrow.Or the day after that.Or all days,for that matter.