Sometimes I see the world in black and white. Everything in black and white. Like everything is muted and I feel nothing, but at the same time that nothing is so loud and intense and heavy that I feel like I might drown in it. 

I’m trying to stay above the surface line, but the black is creeping up through my toes and into my whole body, like vines, pulling me back down. Our strengths are matched and we’re caught at a stand still. I’m stuck with my nose and mouth just above the water, enough that I can gasp for air but not enough to take a deep breath. All I want to do is surrender to that blackness, because I’m so tired of fighting for air. I’m so tired of kicking and screaming against it, I’m more than ready to let it consume me completely. 

But I can see the people I love above me, and I can see my cat who has no one else but me, and so I hold on and I keep kicking and screaming. I’m exhausted, but I fight. It’s more difficult than anything I’ve ever done in my life, and at the same time it feels like it’s the ONLY thing I’ve ever done in my life. Sometimes I make it out and can really breathe for a few weeks. But every time it feels harder to get out than the last time. 

I want to give up, but I have too much to say and too much to do. I want to know what life feels like, REALLY feels like. So I can’t drown yet. 