Its that drowning feeling. Remember when you were little and that first time you swam in a large body of water. It was sink or swim. Win or fail. Live or die. Gain or lose. The water reached your neck as you panic, but you're still a head above danger. You start to move every muscle in your body in search of stability, a safe place. Random movements and uncoordinated motions only sink you faster. It seems like a life time has gone by in those few short seconds when you wonder if you're going to get out alive. Somehow, some way, the littlest of progress is made by the largest movements. In a mess of water, gasping for air and blurred vision... your fingers touch something besides liquid. In that tenth of a second as your finger swipes the gritty edge the first tangible, stable, sturdy savior. The best feeling in the world. Life says, well, look at this little fucker, hes going to be alright.
I'm the kid drowning. I want this. No, I need this. I'm going to drown without this. I'm a blind, blurred mess of a frantic child searching for a lifeline. Be it love, faith, peace. I'm searching for something. Real. Pure. In every area of my life, I'm being carried further out into deep water.
I need to put every means of my existence into staying above my personal death.
