Psalv Muron sunk me deep.

Propositions and words wont do it for me. I have pull myself through the waters, before my supply runs out. But even with the oxygen, my head still spins. Holding my eyes open seems to have the same effect as when my eyes are closed.

Cold darkness runs across my neck pulling at my emotions, and it claws for more. But its all I got in this empty black sea. We drift aimlessly apart, and my consistency seems to be failing me. It all dissolves in the pointless blank terror. This horrible membrane is against me, on every step shame arises, and steals and cheats me out of what I need.

I am thrashing, and shouting and singing and hurting, but I am still here. I will have to defeat this tempest here.