Bad Days

My mind feels like an ocean. Vast and deep and mysterious.

With constant waves beating onto the shore. Some days calm and some days violent. Water swirling and swelling and pounding against itself. Swallowing everything in sight. Dragging any lost soul down, down, down into its' murky depths.

Lost, gone, forgotten.

I sink.

Down, down, down. Because that is the kind of day it is.

Drowning in my own thoughts, in my own emotions. Only gaining some relief by putting pen to paper and attempting to convey what I am feeling inside my complicated mind to anyone who is willing to listen.

The weight of everything is overbearing. I feel my lungs weigh heavy with the icy depths of this emotional whirlpool, and I struggle to find peace. The eye in the storm.

I yearn for the calm.

The type of days I drift, a-float on top of my life raft. Gently rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the waves. Splayed out as far as my limbs will go, soaking up the sun until my skin turns pink then red then burnt.

But I do not care, I am above the unknown depths of the water.

Of the darkness in my mind.

These are the differences between the best and the worst days.

But I can not forget about all the days in between.

Hot, exhausting, my raft has a hole and I paddle and paddle and scoop and dump water out all day to keep from sinking. Searching somewhere, anywhere, for something or someone to save me.

These are not good days either.

I'll rescue myself, I think.

With one substance or another. One person or another. Nothing or no one good for me, but I feel the need to cling onto something, anything.

And I know it is only a temporary relief. Maybe for a day or for a night or for an hour, who can tell. But I'll hold on to it as long as I can.

Until my hands are raw and blistered, and my body trembles from the physical feat. I'll hold on until my strength dissipates.

And down I'll go.

Down, down, down.

Back again, drowning.

And these highs and lows circulate with the battles in my mind. With the questions swirling in my brain.

When my breath is choked and I can no longer think of anything else to do, I'll stare at the sun through the murkiness of the water. A forced acceptance washes over me as I sink down, down, down.

I'll dream about shore as I watch the water glistening and sparkling above me, I'll think about the days my mind is no longer as chaotic and unpredictable as it is today. I'll dream myself into unconsciousness. Until my mind finally gives up on this endless war and lets' me sleep.

I thank god for these dreams.

My dreams are my hope. The only life line that seems attainable. When they will manifest themselves into a reality, only time can tell.

In these dreams I am no longer stranded at sea, but safely on shore. Far away, alone, but at peace. And I watch the waves kiss the sand and allow the water to rush in and around my feet without fear of it pulling me under. I look out into the vast openness of the sea and finally sigh with relief.

I am grounded. I am in control.

There is no depth beneath me that I can sink into. Just the strong sturdiness of the sand and the earth keeping me from spiraling.

And I'll look up at the sky, and close my eyes under the power of the sun, and smile.

Let the rays tickle my skin, and when it becomes too hot I'll walk away and find a shade.

I'll go wherever I'd like.

Alone, but in peace.

This hope makes me kick and fight my way to air. I can breath again, maybe barely, but at least I am still alive. Still fighting.

Even if, for now, it is only a dream.