Cold Water.

background &
image of hands from a manga I can't remember for the life of me.



At one point in my life, I believed in God.

I believed with my heart and soul that I was Catholic and that I had let God into my life, and he would bring me a savior. I prayed and prayed and prayed, wishing that one day He would answer my call and let me have a normal family.

Cold, cold water surrounds me now
And all I've got is your hand

He was my last hope.

Nothing else worked. Wishing on stars, on birthdays, or writing to Santa.
I pleaded and I begged and I hoped, and I believed He would make things better.
That I would be able to find freedom and truth and stop this pain.
Stop my suffering, and most of all, stop my mother's suffering.

Stop my mom's pain from a broken heart.
Stop her self-destructing.
Stop the breast cancer.
Stop her bitterness, and anger, and-

And give me back my hope.
My innocence.

Eventually I stopped believing, and I gave up, and I put up with all this bullshit.

I clung onto simple happiness.
I was like a lost kitten, eating and licking the remains of whoever was kind enough to feed me, with a rough tongue and a broken thanks.

Love one's daughter
Allow me that

God was my last hope.
Then my father was.
Now, there's nothing.

I keep writing and writing, and one day I had the sudden thought, "What if one day, I don't have anymore words? What if I run out of words? What if one day, there are no words left in the world to describe how I'm feeling, how I feel, how I felt? What if one day, I just can't speak anymore?"

I abandoned that thought, thinking I would trouble myself with it when it came.

It's here, and I'm ready to accept that I'm lost.
I'm drowning.
My words muffled and dark and drowned out by the roaring of the sea.

It doesn't matter who takes my hand now, I'm plunging into the deep, deep ocean.
海