*to those with my unfulfilled promises, I apologise.

Dear World,

*There are no explicit lessons here

For the past two weeks or so – probably longer – I’ve felt like I’m in a pressurised zero gravity vacuum in outer space all while feeling like with each breath, I sink deeper into the abyss of the deep blue that science says makes up approximately 71% of the Earth’s surface.

The irony that stands out here is that I’m thalassophobic and have a deep-seated fear of the deep blue. Though I relish freedom and plenty of space, I never quite imagined existing that kind of plane. I’m also fearful of vacuumed spaces — not that it’s void of people, but that it’s void of everything.

So, why am I sharing this? Well, these two extreme feelings have been fused in my existence, leading to crippling experiences where I legitimately cannot move or find the freewill to move and get going to keep my head above water or not fold under pressure. So, I paused — unannounced with no warning — and I’ve been laying in compounded fresh, stale, and outdated tears. You know, on the plane where ideas, the will to create, and action go to shrivel up and hold on for dear life.

I’ve penned it in poetic expression. I hope you like it.

Actually, It doesn’t matter if you do. I would, however, love your responses – solicited and un.

Sunken

Head above water

Fresh starts do that. They tend to give you boats, ships, yachts, and floaties to keep you above the surface. You’re comfortable and happy.

Fresh starts do that. They keep you protected from the unknown and provide shelter from storms. You have some reprieve from choppy waters and unrelenting winds.

Fresh starts do that. They give you sounder mind and thinking space for logic and good decisions.

Fresh starts do that. They warn you of what’s possible. So, though you see the storm, hear the wind, and get seasick, you’re still much safer than if you didn’t have those protections.

Cracks and tears

Until…until the integrity of your ‘above water’ gets compromised.

A tear or crack is all it takes to rip the sails and break the rudders.

It starts small until it’s the size of a blue whale.

No room for comfort.

No more shelter from storms.

You feel every wind gust.

You try to bail water out…

Until…until you can’t

It’s far worse than you anticipated

Sinking

No more boat, ship, yacht, floatie.

Everything’s gone

It’s all water

Creatures of the deep blue and you.

You try to float and keep your head above water

Swimming skills do so much and no more.

You’re tired, exhausted, drained.

Body gives out and now you’re…

sinking.

Shifting planes

As you sink, you pass out

You ingest as much water your body can take

You’re drowning

Enter the outer body experience

You see yourself drowning

Nothing can be done

Before you know it, the deep blue disappears and you’re in outer s p a c e

It’s you and the stardust in its many forms

a pressurised vacuum.

How are you still existing?

You’re breathing and you’re floating

Breathing and existing in this s p a c e?

Interchangeable – sinking – floating

Back to the deep blue

You open your eyes

Gasp and intake more water

Back to s p a c e

You’re awake and alive

More stardust and more pressure

Darkness to non-existence

It all stops and there’s nothing

You’re thinking and you’re aware of the crisis

There’s nothing you can do

Fresh starts do that. They tend to give you boats, ships, yachts, and floaties to keep you above the surface. You’re comfortable and happy.

Fresh starts do that. They keep you protected from the unknown and provide shelter from storms. You have some reprieve from choppy waters and unrelenting winds.

Until they don’t

You can’t see, can’t hear, can’t feel, can’t breathe

Nothingness

Existing in nothingness

Sunken

Signed,

The Suburban Girl JA®