As kids we played a game, to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater. We'd have someone hold us down on the bottom of the pool with their foot, and tap them when we were ready to come up. I been feeling like I am playing that game again...I was always the one down there the longest. I loved it down there even though I felt so heavy and weighted down as my chest got tighter and tigther longing for oxygen. Everything was muted, the water a gentle cradle, like a suffocating womb. Except this time there is no one to tap to let me rise up for air, there is no water whose surface I can break. I am dwelling on land right now, trying to do the day-to-day, but every movement feels as if I was still stuck under the water...
