Ocean bottom

On a cruise, everyone’s happy. They are eating, dancing, singing, and enjoying the view.

But me, I’m trying to find if there are any sharks in the sea; I’m wondering if they can attack us. If they can bite or peck the ship to reach us.

I’m trying to feel secure, trying to convince myself all is good; I’m far away, all’s fine, all’s alright…

And half a day is lost.

Now, I’m beating myself up that I didn’t have fun for the first half.

Another half a day, lost.

Everyone is tired and sleeps, and I keep wondering why I’m not having fun at a place where I’m supposed to be happy.

I lose the night.

I am grumpy when I wake up, but I have made up my mind, & I’ll focus on fun.

Yeah, "focus" instead of having it.

Turns out, sharks turn up because it’s their turn to have some fun.

They are just circling around with no intention to harm us or eat any of us. They just like scaring us.

They see me; I’m all panicked. They make me their target, obviously.

And I obviously stand up to their expectations and become the best-scared candidate they have ever met. How can I break someone else’s expectations of me?

Instead of being on the cruise, I’m in their minds, in their fantasy, living and riding on something that doesn’t exist.

Suddenly, when I realise this, the ship converts into a boat, a boat with too many holes. I start crying. I try to find something around to cover the holes and try to keep an eye on the sharks. I found the books I wrote when I was anxious. I remember writing provides me solace, and I’m imagining all this, so maybe if I start writing, I’ll feel better. I write and write and write, but the holes don’t repair. I start tearing the books and stick the pages in the holes.

But water makes them moist. I lost the books, and I couldn’t save the boat. I give up. I fall on the boat. The boat cracks. I wait for the sharks to come eat me and end this misery. But they seem to swim away, feeling bad for me. I try to drown, but I am able to breathe perfectly.

Inside water?? I don’t believe it. I start drowning almost when I reach the bottom of the ocean. I try to stand on it, but the water doesn’t allow me. It doesn’t let me breathe. I keep trying, I keep trying, I keep trying, and finally, I lose my consciousness. I am now drowning again, & water pushes me back to the surface because of fluid dynamics, of course. I now am floating on water, which means I am dead. I let a sigh out of relief. I exhale, which means I am alive… oh no, man, not again…

I am thrown out of the ocean onto the cruise ship. I feel bad. I was so close. I was so close. I was so close. I keep repeating this. I keep taking deep breaths. I keep recalling how close I was to touching the bottom of the ocean and how I couldn’t. I was so close to understanding that it was all in my head. How it has always been… I could have made it because it was all in my head; I could have made it because I could imagine touching the bottom of the ocean, but I couldn’t make it because it was, in fact, "all in my imagination”.

In my head, I always find myself losing. I was trying to change this narrative and I was so close as always… For once, I wanted my mind to work for me and not against me. For once, I wanted some freedom from my thought patterns, my thought process, and my thoughts. I wanted a break through.

Insane, but yeah, I “thought” I could change the way “I thought”.