There were moments,
days,
months
when I didn't think I would make it this far.
I keep thinking back to when everything broke,
to when I started sinking,
and I am wondering how it is possible
that I haven't hit bottom yet.
I'm wondering if there is a bottom.
I'm wondering if maybe,
you just keep sinking,
and sinking,
and sinking,
until eventually you run out of breath
and your lungs force you to inhale salt water
because it is the only thing left around you.
You're supposed to let out little bubbles of air,
never all of it at once.
Your body can keep using the oxygen left in your lungs
and you can breath out the carbon dioxide,
but eventually your chest will be empty.
And then you will swim.
That's when you kick,
pull,
claw at the surface,
drag your water-saturated body
toward the place you used to call home.
You will not make it.
You have been falling for so long
that it is impossible
to make up for the time lost.
Keep swimming.
As you get closer to the surface
your lungs will ache from oxygen deprivation.
Your legs will not be as fast or strong.
You will begin to lose consciousness.
But the sunlight will start to break through.
Ultraviolet rays penetrating the surface
will caress your arms,
you will remember what safety feels like,
you will smile.
You will close your eyes.
You will stop fighting the pull of gravity.
Corpses float.