It's Like Being In the Middle Of The Ocean With No Life Jacket

Somehow, you ended up here. 

    You don't remember even swimming, or being near water. 

Yet here you are. The water is extremely calm. Not a single wave dares to form. The skies above you are bright blue, no cloud in the sky. You feel no activity or hear any birds flying above you. Everything is erily quiet except for your small, subtle laps of water you are creating staying afloat.

    It would be beautiful, if there was a boat in sight. Some kind of hope that this is just one big vacation moment and you can hop onto the safety of a floating vessel. But there is no such reprieve. I didn't come here willingly. I didn't drop down into this ocean with a plan or an action on what I was doing here. No. I was gifted this moment by simply breathing. That's it. Breathing which I know will definitely be harder in short moments.

    I look around hoping to see somewhere to swim, some land to give me some goal. I try and align myself with the sun, trying to decide which way is East and which way is West. That small knowledge would give me some sort of comfort, but I can't tell which way it is setting. Is it standing still?

    My arms begin to hurt, I lay upon my back and kick my legs gently, floating freely within the water. I am utterly alone. I don't know which way is the way to swim, in fact, the horror I will face if I swim the wrong way will be worse. I may not make it if I choose the wrong way. There's also that annoying feeling that I am miles away from any type of civilization. 

    I'm gonna die. 

    I am gonna drown. 

    I am gonna suffocate. 

    How long does it take for you to finally die when you lose the ability to breathe? What does it feel like to get water in your lungs? Does it hurt like when you accidentally swallow water down the wrong pipe? These are all questions I don't know the answer to. Never in my life would I have needed to know this. Never in my life did I ever think this is the way I would go. 

I don't want to die, I want to fight.

    I look up and pray that I floated closer to some land, but still, nothing but vast ocean of water. The really crappy part about this is there is no waves, no current, to just allow me to get this long excruciating pain over and done with. It would allow me, with resolve, to know exactly when I am going to die. If I can just float as I am doing right now, it gives me some just enough hope which won't let my adrenaline kick in. The high of fighting isn't here, no... it's annoyingly agonizing. 

    I start to struggle in my mind. All of the thoughts started to crash into me. 

You're gonna die. 

You are leaving kids behind. 

You have so much more to do! 

It's gonna hurt.

It won't be quick. 

First your arms will give in, then your legs. The burn in the abs, the salt will burn your eyes out of their sockets. 

Nobody is around to hear you scream for help. 

You're not smart enough to stay alive. You aren't capable of pushing through like in the movies. 

You're weak. 

Slowly, I can feel my muscles begin to shrivel. It's coming. "Stay up stay up stay up." I plead with myself. 

My mouth breathes in its first wave of liquid and the salt stings my throat. As I cough it back up, the muscle spasms in my stomach begin. My legs are continuing to move in rythmnic motion, holding onto my life...

And yet, for some odd reason...I never drown.