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The walls are receding but the room stays the same. It's cramped and unorganized and I hate it, cause I hate it when things aren't in place. But everything has always been that way. Every little memory seems made up. Who are we to tell which is real and which is not anyway? I couldn't even feel my own skin. Am I real? Am I here?

You might think I'm losing my mind. Maybe I am. Maybe I've found a different reality.

God, I'm drowning. Slowly, painfully and numbly. My gums are thick, like the early minutes upon the injection of anesthesia. My hands tremble, not visible from the eyes, but the tiniest muscles shake inside and it's exhausting.

God, I'm drowning. I feel that sensation when you're floating in the sea, and there are tiny waves that move you, cradling you. Making your arms heavy, your legs paralyzed. Only your eyes, nose, and mouth aren't soaked. Like the sea is allowing you to breathe but not move. Like you're allowed to survive but not live.

You are just waiting for the day that it pulls you down totally. You just wanna drown cause you've been floating for a long time. But why don't you get up? Can't you stand? -No. I don't know. I need to feel my skin first. I need pain to feel my skin, then maybe I'll get up.-

There are better days. Days when I feel like talking to people, days when I wanna walk outside, see the city at night. There are good days when everything is bliss. When the passing of a car is lovely. When every music on the bus seems like, seems like. I can't remember. I can't remember how joy feels like. I can't remember right now.

It feels like there's an on and off switch but I'm not the one who's holding it. I'm trembling again. Please, don't play with the switch. Please, stop. Please... God, I'm drowning.