Still Breathing... - by Laseeee

..I’m drowning.And yet no one believes drowning looks like this.They expect noise.They expect chaos.They expect hands in the air and someone screaming for help.But I’m quiet.I’ve been quiet for so long that silence feels like part of my lungs now.I’m underwater, counting my breaths like they’re the last coins I own, spending them carefully because I don’t know when I’ll get more.I tell myself, just float.Just don’t sink today.Just make it to tomorrow.I’m still breathing.But I’m lost.Not because I took a wrong turn, but lost because everything familiar stopped feeling like home and no one noticed.Like I’m standing in my own life and I don’t recognise the shape of it.I’m trying.I need you to understand that.God, I’m trying.I’m kicking.I’m pulling myself forward.I’m doing everything they said would save me.But the water is heavy, and I’m tired of pretending it isn’t.They say, “Be strong,” like strength doesn’t get tired, like strength doesn’t ache, like strength doesn’t drown too.Every breath burns.Every breath feels borrowed, like I’m inhaling permission instead of oxygen.I’m still breathing.I keep swimming toward the shore, or at least what I hope is.Sometimes it looks close enough to believe in.Sometimes it feels like a story I tell myself so I don’t stop moving.I tell my lungs, not yet.Hold on.Just one more breath.But I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.I don’t know how to explain this without people trying to fix it, or weigh it, or tell me it could be worse.I don’t know how to ask for help without feeling like I’m asking for too much.So I stay quiet.I sink politely.Nobody talks about how lonely it is to fight something no one can see.Nobody tells you how loud your thoughts get when the world thinks you’re fine.I’m not weak.I’m exhausted.There is a difference, even if no one bothers to hear it.I’m tired of being brave.Tired of surviving things I never agreed to endure.And still, I’m here.Still floating.Still breathing.Still choosing not to disappear.Even when the waves pull me back.Even when the shore feels imagined.Even when hope feels heavier than despair.If this is drowning, let it be honest.If this is a cry for help, let it be real.Because I’m still here.Still trying.Still breathing.Still swimming toward something, anything,Just anything that feels like solid ground.

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