When someone is drowning,

Don’t tell them how to swim.

They can’t kick their feet.

They can’t turn their head to breathe.

They can only gasp for air,

Sucking in water

Where oxygen should be.

When you’re drowning,

Don’t do it quietly.

Don’t let yourself sink to the bottom just

Because it might burden someone else

To pull you back up.

It’s okay to struggle and make a scene.

You’re drowning.

Water is not your friend.

The deeper you sink the more it

Pushes down on you,

Until your ears hurt and your head

Wants to expload.

Water is not your friend

When it fills your lungs,

Or your eyes,

And you can’t see straight either way.

Water is not your friend

When you don’t have the motivation

To shower for days,

And you wipe yourself down

With a washcloth.

Even though you feel disgusting,

You just can’t do more.

Water is not your friend

When it watches you drown,

And still piles up more

On top of your dead body.

I saw you sink.

I watched as the water engulfed you

And pulled you down

Like an anchor around your waist,

But I can’t save you

Because I can’t swim either,

So why would I try to teach you how?

The lifeguards are off duty.

There’s no one here to see us

Sinking down.

Away from the sun.

Away from the land.

Away from the hopes and dreams we had for tomorrow.

It’s just me.

And the water is just my feelings

On nights like this:

Where everything is too much,

But nothing will ever be enough.

And I’m still drowning

In the water that’s supposed to keep me alive.