I cannot shake off the pervasive feeling that I am slowly drowning. Drowning in myself.
Strides through a preternaturally strong undertoe are progressively more futile. Very little ground is gained. The goal, simply - an action in the negative - not to drown. To remain, bobbing above the water's edge, just often enough. Or just to remain. A lifestyle one step removed from persistent vegetative state. A consciousness softened and, resultantly, bloated and misshapen by the ever-accumulating pool of standing water in my head.
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