Another day is not started with a bird's call or a kiss of sunshine peeking through your window's hair.
Carpet or hardwood doesn't catch your feet after you decide that you can't sit at the cliffside any longer.
You know people watch with pity as you descended towards the waves.
They'll yell from the top of the cliff that you need to believe in yourself, and that you can do it.
But no one jumps in after you.
Your head cracks as soon as it hits the ocean's surface.
It's as if lightning struck your spinal cord. You felt like you ruled over fire as the electric currents burned all the way to your fingertips and toes.
Rational thinking bleeds out of your head along with all of your emotions except fear.
Bubbles around you formed countless clones of you, all putting pressure on your broken chest.
They squeeze and squeeze. Whispering threats and anything else to steal your confidence.
Trying to scream wouldn't help. You'll just find a new part of yourself to be self conscious about.
Decomposition attracts the creatures of the sea. You remember them.
You give and give to them, even though it looked more like they were taking. Anything was fine as long as they kept you safe from the waters.
"At least I'm helping someone." You say to yourself.
But those creatures didn't help you as you were drowning.
In a matter of fact: they were there as you sat at the cliff. Not a single voice rung from the ocean to help you.
You can pull yourself together, away from the bellies that seemed to protect you from the ocean.
If it was fate to go back to the ocean. You can be prepared for it.
Medication will put a glass floor over the ocean.
You can take scuba lessons. Make a few friends along the way.
A faint reminder remains in your brain.
Use the eye drops. See everything for what it really is.