I’m drowning.

Infinitesimally small bubbles envelop my vision. They move about like glitter, floating aimlessly but inevitably upwards. Specks of dust dirty their farewell. Tiny black dots that grow, slowly spreading even as I try to blink the confusion away. I hate the corruption by these horrid black dots. There was a certain beauty in seeing those pockets of life float away from me, purposefully relinquished from my grasp. In the endless sea, I inflicted a few ripples with those round orbs. There was clarity, there was control.

Then I briefly consider another possibility. Maybe I’m sinking.

The thought makes me panic. I mustn’t panic. Panic is for the weak. I am not weak. I am confident. I understand what I have done and where this will lead me. No regrets.

No regrets, I try to say aloud, but my voice is reduced to a few gurgles. Bigger, grotesque bubbles appear, moving much quicker than their smaller counterparts. My blood pumps a little faster, encouraged by their urgency. Calm. Down.

The water overtakes my mouth. I panic further. I don’t want the water in my mouth.

I don’t want the water anywhere.

Suddenly, my arms are flailing. Hands grabbing everywhere. Legs swishing aimlessly in the still waters. I inhale instinctively – all I register is water.

Glittering bubbles reappear from my sudden movement, and hope flashes through me. I grab at them, trying to stuff the precious air in my mouth. There is no one to witness my craze but the eyes of God. I am not ashamed to survive.

Yet, ‘twas all in vain.

I look to the murky darkness below, promising more than I could ever imagine.

I raise my head. The black spots grow to overtake me. No more bubbles.

Finally, I allow my eyes to close.