None of my senses are working. I am not here. I am delicately floating on my back, the air trapped in my lungs keeping my nose above cold cerulean waters, this isn’t my life.
Dry, brittle, long brown hair conforming to each wave, arms stretched out letting water glide over and under, this isn’t my life.
Exhale. Heavy legs begin to slowly sink and with my femur bones goes my spine, rib cage, skull. This isn’t my life.
Goodbye, I think as water fills my lungs.
Goodbye, I think as I sink into the sand.