Ocean

You know that feeling when you’re going up the stairs of a dark basement?

Where you feel the darkness, or something unknown in it, following you up the stairs?

You don’t know exactly what it is and you can’t exactly touch it.

But you know you don’t want to see it or slow down.

I hate that feeling.

Sometimes I get a moment of courage where I stop on the stairs.

I stay right there and maybe turn, to look into that void.

And as I stair into the void, it starts to feel familiar.

Finding comfort in it.

It’s something inevitable. It’s already there, I can’t change that.

Sometimes I imagine myself in a bubble at the bottom of the ocean.

And it could be so terrifying to be down in that darkness.

But there’s also something sort of nice, like a hug, or like I’m back in the womb.

And I’m so small, insignificant even, nothing to worry about, nothing to do.

I don’t know why I think it’s nice.

But I kind of do, in a weird way that acknowledges that it’s also pretty scary, daunting.

But either way, I’m myself and now, on this world that I’m haunting.