Suffocating.
Reaching for the air in a sea of raging water. Like wind-torn, sheets smacking against my face. White caps into waves into a drowning pound of Poseidon’s Trident. I know that air is what I need. I know that what I feel is legit. I know that I am doing the best I can, but this dark mass beneath my chin, upholding and at times consuming my body, scares me. At times the water is calm and I am floating above it, relaxed, balanced. The fear of being swallowed whole lingers even in as another wave passes. It is times like these my questions of life's purpose are fueled. I can’t help but ponder in the midst of animosity, negative and condescending tones of other people in the room that what I am doing is wrong and that what happens when they figure out I don’t belong here. I want to eat my emotions as I leave the stuffy room of passive-aggressive peoples, more as I get to the comfort of my own mind where I no longer have to present. I no longer have to nod nor do I have to sit there with...