I built a castle underwater.
Slowly but steadily, since forever, brick by brick.
It was an easy task, the weight of these bricks, made heavier by all the wishful thinking and longing I put into the task, only helped to push them deeper and deeper under the surface of the bright cerulean water into the darker depths. But the castle was not enough, so I kept on dreaming and wishing and imagining and longing until I built an entire kingdom. However, greedy little thing, I wanted more and more, I needed more and more to escape the grey I was faced with every time I resurfaced and looked around my surroundings. Thus, I started playing God and populated this underwater kingdom.
And then, finally, I was content enough to simply look, from the bottom of the sea, at the shiny echo of lights that penetrated the surface of the water and that painted my new world in pretty blues and greens and pinks and yellows. And I was so content in my escapism that for a while I forgot to resurface to breath, I forgot that I needed oxygen and light and reality if I wanted to keep visiting my pretty little jewel box and fill it with new wonders.
So, I started drowning and I sprinted up, pushing towards the light and the air. But it was too late, for I had also forgot how to breath. And now I am both drowning and suffocating, a relic drifting between two worlds incapable to inhabit either.
Unbelonging, unwanted, unneeded, unable to live, floating in a limbo of regrets and broken hopes.
