Droplets of Breath

It seems like the harder I try to escape the inevitable, the easier it is for the inevitable to drown me. Like a strong current, it draws me further and further into the deep - every stroke a loss of breath. The air in my breast diluted by a torrent of water; first droplets, but more and more with every gulp. It gets to a point where the water exceeds the air and then all I get are droplets of breath. Fear and anxiety grip me like the cold of the Atlantic. The water burns my skin. The air: ice crystals in my lungs.

I've been here before - misery and I are old companions. It takes me to a point where I feel that this is the end! "It's over now. It's killed me." But relief is a mind fuck in its vast arsenal - a secret weapon abused on its favourite playthings, and I find myself drifting in the open sea, surrounded by nothing but regret. Land is a joke - hope! A container filled with everything between me and the sky.

The future holds itself in its hands, and it holds on too tight.

Amazing! How beautiful the sky is. Amazing! How beautiful you are. Why do I only notice when I'm at my ugliest?

You stand at the door with your bag over your shoulder, gripping the strap, while the other hand fiddles with the button on a rolling suitcase. The handle bar is fully extended, but you play with the button as you wait. You look at me with tears in your eyes. They've been dripping warmly down your cheeks for so long they've cooled and dragged me out into cold waters. And you continue to wait.

Why do you wait? Do you hope I ask you to stay? That I beg you to not go? That I say these things and everything else that stays stuck to my tongue and weighs my heart down? That I tell you I love you and always will?

No! This is the inevitable. If not today, then surely you will leave tomorrow, so I light a cigarette and stare broken heartedly at you. The tears run down you face in parallel with my bleeding heart. I look away; my shoes being non-comfortingly an easier sight then the devastation on your face.

I will not drag you through my current.

I take another drag of my cigarette and I hear you sniffle. The clicking noise stops as you still your hand on the suitcase, and you stop waiting.

"Okay... fine..." you say with a deep breath and leave. The door clicks shut and you've rescued yourself. The tears flow from my eyes.