Your body my god. Dark, primal, elemental. Spirit entwined in flesh and worthy of hedonistic devotion. Your pleasure is my dogma, your approval my religion. I am a pagan to your whims, a willing sacrifice to your every depraved want. Make me your priestess, bound in willing service. It takes a god to hold the ocean of another human being, and your sheer gravity commands my tides.

Take your throne.

It's cute how magical you thought life would be, how much love you thought you'd find. Let's crush that hope.

How about some psycho religious, emotionally stunted parents who openly prefer your older brother to you and treat you like the redheaded step-child?

Drown, bitch.

Molestation and grooming by an older cousin?

Drown, bitch!

Fucking autism undiagnosed until your thirties? Fuck yeah! And some spicy PTSD to go along with it from always being the outsider and picked on and rejected. Oh, you never quite fit in, do you, little weirdo? No boy is ever going to want you.

Breathe in that nasty stagnant water.

What's that? Sure, let's lose your virginity, but how about to an asshole who only fucks you because he can't get with your friend - and hell no to it being enjoyable.

Taste that briny water!

Hell yeah. Let's turn that complete trainwreck into the worst situationship, lasting almost four years. And to make it even better, break up with him, and then play with all the undersexed men online. Oh, they'll make you feel so fucking special for once. So polite. So grateful to see that twenty-year-old pussy. You like that? Well guess what, you dumb slut? All those dudes are married. That isn't love. You don't get to keep them.

Enjoy that brief breath so you can go back under and scream those miserable bubbles. Drowwwwwwn. It's cute how you think weed or antidepressants is gonna help this shit.

Let's really twist the knife now. Fall in love with one of them. Go on. I dare you. Carry on for like ten years knowing there's always that invisible threshold you'll never get to cross.

Swallow this whole fucking lake. Drink it up and follow it's path even deeper where it meets the sea, because here's where it's really going to get fun.

Have a nervous breakdown and fuck that second cousin who molested and groomed you all those years. No condom? No problem! Such a stupid little whore. Did you really think you'd find love like this?? Oh you think him leaving his wife is a good thing? You think this is a breath, that things are going to be better?

Cue the religious parents. Let's make this shit into a shotgun wedding. Go ahead, say something. I dare you to confide in anyone about the way he's been preying on you since you were in kindergarten. No one wants to know that. No one wants to hold that memory. They want to glaze over all the red flags and FINALLY be free of you, let you be his problem now.

Thank God you're finally married off and having his babies. Such a blessing, isn't it? It's such a fucking blessing to be married to a man who doesn't fully grasp the concept of consent, to sleep with a man who goes dead in the eyes when he fucks you - but don't you dare look away. That's rude. You don't want to hurt his feelings. And stop protesting so much or looking so sad. Stop making him feel like a rapist. You're lucky, stupid girl. Remember that. You're lucky he works and supports you. Tap into some Stockholm Syndrome and start fawning and showing some fucking gratitude.

Oh you're having constant panic attacks? Ugh. Such a drama queen. You take up so much space with your bullshit. Other people have problems too. Just swallow a bigger prescription. Keep that shit to yourself. And get over this executive dysfunction shit. You have a house to run and children to raise. You need to try harder.

Harder!

I SAID HARDER!

You're so fucking lazy. Just DO. IT. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. Do you know what he went through as a kid? Be grateful, lazy bitch. He's pulling his weight, upholding his end of the deal. Figure out what prescriptions, what dose of THC, which herbal tea will fix this. You have dishes to do. Whatever is going on inside you is your problem to deal with and get over. Social anxiety is a joke. Go get groceries. You're so lucky.

Drown in your pretend suburbia, little outcast. Do what you're told.

Sink.

Take the verbal abuse. Be a good wife and just bend over. You know how he gets when you don't keep him happy. Just take it up the ass an maybe it'll feel like love for the rest of the night.

Drown.

Drown in the loneliness of being misunderstood and so very sensitive. Drown in the mess and pretend you love it. Drown while you scold yourself for being too dramatic, for failing him over and over and over, even if it feels like you've been trying so hard and gained ground. It'll never be enough. You'll never be enough. You never were to begin with, that's why you're so invisible, even to your own family.