The skin on my face feels like it’s pulling back on my skull and it’s only going to stop when my neck cracks. My lungs aren’t working and I’ve developed the delusion that I’ll grow gills so I can slip in to the water and learn to be weightless and complete. Out here? The gravity is so intense that I can feel it pull down on my heart like it’s expecting me to lurch forward and break my spine. And then I remember the anchor I have for a head, and how it’s tilting me backwards so I won’t tip forward. Permanently stable, I’m not getting anywhere because I don’t want to tip over and lose my balance. Eyes drawn shut, thick lips unevenly parted, every breath I take feels like sandpaper against my throat. It’s smoothing out my insides, until I cough out obscenities and we’re back to square one.

Fuck it.
Toss me overboard, I’m sick of land.