17 September 2012
Ice cold water glugged down my throat as I gasped and gasped for breath, drowning myself with each desperate intake. The salt stung my eyes, freezing white waves slapping against my body, tugging me and tossing me through the ocean waters. I scrambled up with what little energy I had left, reaching the surface for the third time, before falling prisoner to the engulfing black oblivion once again. I'm not afraid to die. You'd think that here, deep in the numbing coldness of the sea, all alone and desolate, I'd be petrified. I should be trembling in fear as death approaches me more quickly with each struggle and gasp for air I take. I'm not. Beneath my panicking, wild exterior, is a calm, tranquil centre, slowly letting death reach out and grip me gently with open arms. I know I won't go to heaven. I've been way too bad in my life for such a blessing in the afterlife. Perhaps hell isn't so bad. Perhaps beneath this world, as judgemental and cynical as it already is, hell is a place to be rewarded for all those things you rebelled against. For all those mistakes you made. For the things you should regret, but would do all over again in a heartbeat. They say "The third time you go under, you're not coming back up".
They're right.
They're Right. • Opuss № I