I thought it was over, but lately it’s started seeping in again. The feeling’s never over; it just lapses and teases an ending, then comes back. It always comes back. Have you ever tried to define emptiness? Just blank canvas, no lights, no images, no tintures. It isn’t black, though. Black is still a color; black is still a “something.” Just emptiness. Stillness. Aloneness. Eternity. My mother asked me what I see myself doing 10 years from now. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I don’t see myself three years from now.

I had a dream the other night. I was falling, sinking in the ocean. The surface shimmered bright above me. I remember feeling nervous for a second at the thought of sharks around me before being calmed by the realization that I would pass out long before they ever got to me. I remember thinking “So this is how it ends.” No family around me, no explanation, no final goodbyes. Just my thoughts and the water as I sink deep into the ocean, in some unknown area, apart from from everything.

I open my mouth, and water begins to fill my lungs. I’m drowning, and I feel at peace.