Sometimes it feels good to hold your breath until it hurts.
This can be taken literally, or as a metaphor.
Either way, it is equally true.
Sometimes the temptation to imitate drowning is very powerful.
Sometimes.
To be still in the turbid water, beneath a turbulent surface.

The similarities in oceans and lakes.
They are both made of the same things.
In theory they are siblings. In practicality, they are siblings. Fraternal twins. Of the same womb.

The difference between oceans and lakes.
In the ocean, at its edge, you are finite, and small, you are crushed by its…something. You are nothing, but die at peace. It is heavy. The water is thick. It is the water. It is your provenance. You are resigned.
The release as you’re compacted.
In a lake you jump from decks and float easily in the light water. You play and sip lemonade, surrounded by trees or mountains or desert.
The point is, you are surrounded. Landlocked.
That is safe.

The moon pulls more than the waters, more than the tides. The moon pulls you back to the rim of infinity, to long for that serene and bubbling death.
The moon tugs your heart or whatever body part you defy in order to stay away.

Have you ever missed anything this much?