I imagine this is what drowning feels like.
My lungs are still breathing.
In and out, in and out.
But each breath I pull, the less I take.
The panic arrives when the ache doesn’t ease,
no matter how many breaths I keep taking in.
I can’t stop the feeling of being trapped or stuck or
never coming back from this
setting in and engulfing me.
My lungs are still breathing,
but I’m falling fast
and not moving at all
and still fighting for that one breath
that can save me,
but the panic is fully settled deep inside me and I
can’t possibly know what to do next.
My hands are tight around the icy, porcelain sink –
holding me up as I forfeit my whole weight onto this
tiny, white thing.
Hard, brown eyes, stare back into mine.
They’re telling me to
get a grip,
but how could I possibly “get a grip”
when I am drowning from the inside out right here
on this bathroom floor.