Twentythousandthreehundredandfifty Miles Deep

Slowly slipping away, dipping under the surface, it's cold and dark and knocks the breath out of your lungs but don't you dare gasp for air, don't you dare scream for help, don't you dare admit your troubles, mouth shut, eyeing the bubbles.

The tugging gets worse and the waves crash over your head and there's a weight on your chest when you try to get out of bed and you fail, again, because why try again when there's nothing left to keep upright for and you're eyeing the door that could pull you out like before.

Pitch-black darkness, a wet throaty cough, a tormentor's laugh.

Lost, shivering, and unfamiliar, you look in the mirror and that face is a stranger's one, anything safe is long gone. A chase for adventure but you tripped on your feet, never found out where the road would lead.

You held out your hand yearning for touch, asking forgiveness, kindness. Well, tough. They ran right past you, not sparing a look, busy, annoyed, not giving a fuck.

You're breaking, you're crumbling, still shivering cold. Home long forgotten, the concept you sold; like the naive traveler desperate for more, the promise of better days kept you running until your feet were sore, your lungs were hurting, your head was spinning and your ears were ringing and you fall.

Twentythousandthreehundredandfifty miles deep, into the Canyon, the water, the reef. This is where you landed, that's where you belong, suffocating, drowning, alone.

So when the adventurer calls and asks you to come, better hide somewhere until they are gone.

Because neither valley nor hill, neither mountain nor forest, neither river nor castle will get rid of the darkness, the voices still, the deep settled fear and self-hatred, the ill in your head. So spare yourself the trouble and just stay in bed.

When the morning light awakened the town, they all knew the story of the one who did drown.

In thoughts, pain, and misery, always alone, never once an adventurer, now remorsefully gone.