Deep Cold

I wanted to live a normal life, thought the man, as he looked up at the faint moon, nearly blocked off by the dark blue. He sank deeper, and deeper, as he kicked and paddled, hoping to push himself upwards, to no avail. He panicked, and started trying to climb the blue. All he could taste was salt, and metal. His vision was starting to fade, and he was starting to feel numb.
He wanted to go home, to lie down on his bed, and forget that it ever happened. But he knew that, even if he got out, he would be in pain. He wished to have just one last drink, to get the horrid taste out of his mouth, but then he realized that it would only make things worse.
At first, he would crave one, and then another, and another, and then, he'd be different. He would shout at, accuse, and abuse his family. He beat his wife, and threatened his kids with his pistol. He couldn't control it. The drinks were the problem, but he could never get away from them. And then, his wife left, taking the kids with her. And then, it dawned on him what he had just done.
As the man wept in front of his television, he tried to tell himself that he didn't need her, and that he had to go up, because he was at rock bottom. But that would be a lie. And now, he was sinking. He couldn't move, he could only feel guilt. Guilt for the horrible actions he had done. He begged whoever pushed him in for forgiveness, and to be saved. But as he touched the sandy bottom, he remembered. He remembered who pushed him into the cold blue.
He remembered that he leapt from the boat above him.
And that's when he finally accepted his fate, and slowly, fell asleep. Never to wake up again.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Micropasta