On the Metaphor of Drowning…

I’ve long hated the idea that depression is like drowning, because nobody just stands there and watches you drown. But lately, I’ve felt like I’m drowning. I’m not sad, not even sort of. I’m just empty. It feels like there’s nothing inside of me except questions, and the questions have no weight; they just bounce around inside my head and echo through my empty chest.

How am I being pulled under the water when there’s nothing weighing me down? If there is nothing inside me, what is dragging me beneath the surface? How do I escape this sensation? How do I find my feet back on solid ground?

This lack of feeling, this lack of solidity, is killing me. I do not want to die. But it doesn’t sound as bad as it should.

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