I'm in the middle of this ocean
which seems infinitely extending.
I try to swim
even though I don't know how to,
but all I ever see is water,
and more water
surrounding me.

I'm stuck in this cycle
of trying to swim all day
only to be tossed by the waves at night,
back to square one.
It just starts all over again.

Sometimes, I think, maybe it isn't worth it
to hope that the waters will be calm
until I reach the shore.
But I always, always end up hoping,
or maybe I'm not hoping,
maybe I'm just fooling myself.

I drown sometimes,
but I still, somehow, manage to breathe again.
My lungs hurt from trying to go for air sometimes.
I guess I don't have much of a choice.
So I breathe.
And swim.
And swim some more.

Sometimes, I swim
not to reach the shore
but to go away
from the place
where this all started — the middle.
I hate being in the middle of the waters.
It doesn't feel safe.

I am lost.
I swim but I don't really know the way to the shore.

I'm not even sure if the shore even exists, anyway.