WATER

I promise you this has nothing to do with "Tyla's Water." Let me elaborate, but I should warn you: It might sweep you away—it's what water does for a living. Picture this: You're standing on the shore, waves lapping at your toes. The sun paints the horizon in hues of gold, and memories flood your mind—the good, the bad, the bittersweet. But what you're missing is the raw truth: Water is a mirror, reflecting not just your skin but the very essence of your humanity. It's poetic, isn't it? A canvas where life's brushstrokes merge into a masterpiece. You wish you'd taken those classes—poetry, philosophy, survival—because now you're facing an exam with no study guide. Blink, and you'll miss it. Wink, and you'll drown. Imagine the light of day slipping away, replaced by the cold breath of winter. No more fireside chats with family, no more marveling at your little brother's brilliance or your older sister's resemblance to Mom. Instead, water clouds your mind, fills your lungs, and whispers, "This is how it ends." Your hands stretch wide, a silent goodbye. Words dissolve like salt in the sea. You gasp, reaching for anything—a lifeline, a memory, a prayer. But the waves drag you down, their abyss swallowing your existence. It's a dance with fate, choreographed by liquid gravity. And that light moment? When you were above sea level, laughing at sunbeams? It fades. There are no rays where you're headed, only the weight of water, the pull of oblivion. You wish someone had warned you, given you advice beyond the textbooks. But here you are, surrendering to the depths. It's not just lungs filling with water; it's dreams, regrets, and unspoken words sinking into the abyss. No epiphanies, no grand revelations—just quiet acceptance. So, my friend, as you slip beneath the surface, remember this: There's no one above or below to lend a hand or a toe. Your story ends here, untimely and profound. Ever wondered what it's like to Drown?