rising tide

Standing on the soft sand, feeling the cool comfort of the salty sun-kissed water as it swirls around you. The tide swells, and it rises up to your knees. It ebbs, and it falls down, fading into the sand, sinking like it were quicksand, slowly, the dark wet spots disappear, like it was never there. The smell is of ocean, slightly fishy, slightly salty, in any other place, it would be a terrible smell. But here, it mixes with everything else, and lifts up the heart.

The monitor beeps. Its heartbeat is a steady, tempo-less beat. The green line on the black screen goes up and down, and up and down. The air is sterile, the sounds are gasping, deep sucking in of breath, and the steady beat of the machine.

It is all a tug of war.

A rope. And so, so very sensitive. Any sudden departure from schedule, from routine, and the balance shifts in the favor of the swelling tide, in the favor of the beat going down, slowing down. A sudden departure from schedule, and it spirals into darkness, into the recesses of- well, the worst kind. It is a balancing act. It has to be precise, it has to be careful. For the sake of sanity. It is all you can do to hold on, even though your palms are raw and red - rope burn. Even though your forehead is lined with sweat. Even though your heart is straining, begging you to give up, to give in. Your mind does not let you. This effort might be torture for your heart, but to lose balance will be torture for the latter. Your heart struggles.

But human beings are resilient creatures. We get used to it. And slowly, you forget that you are holding the rope at all. You are tugging on autopilot. Until the day you forget. In your comfort, you trip and slip. They pull it just an inch, maybe even less. Centimeters, a few millimeters? That is enough. The darkness swarms in, thousands of hungry angry bees - having lost their hive, they need someone to take their anger out on - stingers out. It swarms in, filling every recess of your mind. Your heart was struggling before, but the effort made you human. This despair that covers it like a thick, suffocating pillow, this is worse.

You forget. You trip. You give a few inches.

The tide swarms in, no more at your knees, it is higher, it is around your throat, a wave under it hacks away at your knees, and you, he who was standing tall, pariah of the earth, meant to be a viceregent, your species, you stumble. The water rushes in, salty, your mouth does not close. Your eyes are burning from the pain, they stay open even as they become cloudy. You can feel a headache, your lungs gasp for breath. The ocean is beautiful and silent down here, but you are drowning. Your screams are internal, nothing but bubbles coming out of your lungs slowly rising to the surface and popping under the nice warm bask of the sun, nothing but that to tell that you are drowning.

The monitor gives one loud beep. The green line feels like it has stopped.