I drop my gaze, heavy with the knowledge that I’m not on my feet at all—that I’m floating in an angry ocean, powerless to the push of the storm that won’t stop lashing at me. That I drowned that day in Puddles, and every breath I’ve pulled since has failed to drag me back to the world of the living. That every day I fail to pull myself out of The Bowl, my heart and soul decompose just a little bit more.
