Drowning in my sorrow is like the saying “drop by drop makes an ocean”. The water drips into my heart for years and years until my whole being is filled with the salt water that is tainted by the outside world and makes my body only a vessel to hold all of that leaving no place for good river water to flow in and remain pure. The salts spread until everything is bittersweet and now all the liquid in this ocean is like tears that taste of salt which give a small insight into the infinite well inside me from which water is hardly drawn. It all remains inside. Until one day when one more drop makes it overflow, when this vessel will not be enough to hold that much sadness that sorrow pours out to which others are astonished seeing. The water is blue like any other. No one knows of all the sadness inside me until they make an effort to draw out everything and help this well start afresh again. But now it’s too late because I am ocean now, not a well; an ocean too big and filled to start again.
So I blubber, I contain, I hold all of it within my boundaries to my best extent. Drowning myself is a given, drowning others is not necessary.
Reading all the happily ever afters give me hope, make me wish, that one day someone will willingly drown themself to give me company. The pragmatist side of me overpowers within a minute of that thought.
I remain underwater, hardly breathing, drowning forever.