There Is Another Voice
Sink or Swim
I’m drowning. Drowning in the depths of the darkest blue, slipping away into the numbness. It started with a fog rolling in, entrancing me. The fog wills me to close my eyes and stop swimming. It whispers to me with a sickly sweet voice. Sink. I can feel my body start to succumb to the voice. I’m sinking deeper. This is not a safe place. The voice has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as if they could get away from it. I'm transfixed by the lulling hums and coos of the voice. Sink and let go.
I want to give in to it. I want to sink deeper and darker. Let me slip into the numb where there is nothing. Let me find peace. It's dangerous, I know. There's nothing good in the depths. But there's nothing at all. No pain, no suffering, no bad thoughts, no thoughts at all. Nothing. What if I let myself sink down for a moment? I’ll swim back to the surface right after. A moment of silence. Just a second of rest. That sounds wonderful. Serene. Nothingness.
There is another voice, a whisper in the back of my mind, urging me to wake up. It calls my name with worry, and every feeling it sends my way is laced with concern. I’m reminded that it's not so easy to escape from nothing. The world of pain and suffering is better than nothing because there are also moments of joy and glimpses of laughter. Swim. I’m rising, ever slightly I begin to see light from the surface. I reach a hand up and break from the depths, touching the air.
For a long moment, I’m stuck fighting the voices. Sink and Swim. My head surfaces and the rest of me follows. I cannot fight right now, I cannot swim. I am too tired. But I will not sink, not into “the anything”, for it is too hard to escape. I will stay here teetering on the line between up and down, here I will remain until I can swim. For now, I will float.
