I know it’s weak of me to give up. I didn’t want to. But it’s like drowning.
Nobody wishes to die, alone in a cold dark ocean. But there’s only so long they can keep their head above the waves until they realize that no one is coming to save them, and they’re never going to find their way back to shore. Sooner or later, the body gives up. It can’t endure anymore. Maybe it could fight to suffer one or two moons, but for what point? The ending is the same. It’s not that death suddenly becomes an attractive thought. It’s just the notion of living is so much uglier.
I used to feel like I was drowning…
so I stopped trying to swim.