I feel like I’m drowning.
Not in the violent, desperate way people always picture. Not in panic, not in chaos, not with frantic hands begging the sky for one more breath.
In the quiet way.
The kind that comes after the struggle.
After the fear has exhausted itself.
After every part of you has fought for so long that there is simply nothing left to give.
So you go still.
Completely still.
And little by little, you let go.
Not because it doesn’t matter.
Not because you never wanted saving.
But because you are so unbearably tired that surrender begins to feel kinder than fighting.
And for one brief moment, just one, it feels almost merciful.
Almost peaceful.
Like the world has finally stopped asking anything of you.
Like the noise has gone silent.
Like the pain has loosened its grip just enough for you to rest inside the hush of it.
Just for a moment.
Just one more moment.