To come back I need to go away.

To come back I need to go away.

I need to go away to come back.

Yesterday I was thrust head first into the ice cold deep cruel ocean waves. Head held under by unseen hands, unable to breath, desperately searching for who was drowning me. I can’t survive underwater any longer, I’m dragged cruelly into the cold dank air. Head just above the crashing waves, barely able to gasp for air, swallowing salty water, choking, unable to breathe. I’m screaming, nose full or salty Britney water. Ears deaf filled with the cold crashes of the sea waves – echoing through my head. Pushed down again, head submerged, held down by strong unforgiving hands. Struggling to break free, I’mm held even firmer underwater. Sight starting to disappear, I’m dragged out again into the cold fresh air – it’s not relief I feel. It’s fear and desperation as I know I’ll be pushed back under to my watery death. That struggling is futile, indeed it seems to give this other being more strength and determination to drown out my ego, my desire to live, die, love, hate. I start screaming under water, knowing as I do that it will be the death of me. I start to seek the pure bliss of giving up, drowning in my sorrows as I know I should. And can.

As my life force begins to ebb, a voice comes to me. It’s hard to hear them over my screams. The waves are screaming in unison. Above the water and below. The hands never slackening their control and force.

“Give up.” It whispers. Icy cold tendrils of truth wrapping themselves around my heart. My soul. “You can’t survive this.”

“Stop struggling.”

“Surrender to the inevitable.”

I’m weak. The air I breath is scant. I stop struggling against the omnipotent and unforgiving hands. Stop seeking the truth behind the cruel fingers gripping my scalp. Hair stuck to my scalp. Nose and chest full of the cold heartless ocean.

I give in. I cease fighting. Look forward to the bliss of losing touch with reality and the warmth I will feel when I stop feeling. And fighting.

I sink further down towards the ocean bed, the hands lose their grip and I’m tossed to and fro by the ocean. Ever slowly sinking further and further down. I’m calm now. No longer screaming. No longer seeking the life saving ocean air above the waves still crashing over my head. The ocean feels like a cradle. Like home. I start to feel warmer than I’ve ever felt. More loved, at peace and one with the very thing that will be my demise. I accept the inevitable. The once unacceptable.

I’m at peace.

I’m done.
Isabella