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The Surface

Something I Wrote

By Kieren HaywardPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Depression is drowning very slowly.

Gradually.

Watching yourself go down deeper and deeper the light which beams through slowly disappears. The beauty of the light soon dies leaving only a distant memory of what life used to be.

Its difficult.

People.

Family.

Friends.

They swim past you like fish while you drown telling you to "man up," "get your life together," and of course patronising relatives especially father's will dictate you on their accomplishes and how their lives aged eighteen were greater.

No one can help you because in truth if you take a moment to look around everyone is drowning and exist like a sea mine.

Some people drown and never return forever in the sea.

Some climb back to the surface and finally feel the sunshine breeze of life.

Blessing them.

Rebirthing them.

If you do somehow choose to pursue the surface and restart your swimming of life you'll always look back over your shoulder like a shark is chasing after you.

It’s not a shark however it's your memories of the "good days."

The easier times.

The days of youthful ambition and beauty.

Let's be real.

The "good days" are invisible like ghosts we never know of our happiness and simplistic lives until later on when we’re drowning.

Life is drowning.

Life is swimming through the warm gorgeous Pacific.

Life is swimming through the freezing Atlantic.

Life is getting hit by multiple waves at once not understanding, getting lost and getting forced violently under the surface to drown with the other souls.

I’ve been bouncing up and down from the surface all my life, drowning, choosing to live and getting attacked by waves.

We are all children not very talented at swimming and it's only natural for us to drown so we can learn to pull ourselves to the surface.

I'm drowning.

I won't return to the surface alone.

Leaving friends and family?

No.

You either hold hands and laugh at yourselves drowning together or you hold hands and help each other return to the delightful rays of life shooting through your flesh like bright colorful lasers.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Kieren Hayward

Aspiring writer...rowing through life

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