Drowning

A poem in which Depression is the Ocean.
 
I know it’s cliche to say it feels like I’m drowning but it’s true. I have a million rocks in my pockets and there’s something pulling at my feet. There is a small ounce of hope that I see in the distance. There is a beach that houses only the worst parts of me. They like this. The sight of me fighting for air, fighting for a reason to live. Fighting the ocean they know will  forever be my home. It’s dark outside, at least it is from my point of view. Not because I want the world the look this way but because that’s what storms bring. It’s raining now. I am naked. My fingers are all pruned up and my body becomes heavier with every attempt to fight. I can’t breath now. My head is spinning. They’re here and they let me know that. I see them. They look just like me but different. There is no light in their eyes only darkness. I can only hear the booming laughter and what my last breath sounds like before I’m pulled under the waves. I become a brick, sinking to the sand. I stop fighting because I am too tired to even move. It’s a long way down. There is nothing but blackness that surrounds me. It feels like ice down here. Thoughts ricochet in my head. I listen to them because there is nobody else here. Tell me I’m good enough. Tell me I’m pretty. Tell me I’m not going to die here. But there is still no one. There is no light. No sliver of hope. No air. Nothing. I died down there and I haven’t been the same since.