Sinking

In all this work, I’m drowning. A path which was crystal clear to me before, is now lost in the murky waters. Expectations, obligations, and what “ought to be” push me down further. Is that weight such a bad thing? I myself cannot say. 

Fleeting bubbles of dreams and what-could-be flutter past toward the surface. I reach my hand out to them, but I don't grasp. The bubbles, they’re so fragile, I’m afraid they might burst. I cannot see the bottom beneath, nor can I see the surface above. Is it too late? Or is the bottom still far from me?

And so, indecisive, I sink. In half-hearted agreement, I stay complacent, too scared to swim. For are those sunbeams from up above that I could feel on my skin? Or are they merely apparitions, refractions of light of another ocean I’m destined to drown in?

So long as I try, I can pass peacefully. But I could never get a reading on effort, I expect too much of myself. Losing sleep I work on assignments whose rewards and benefits aren’t currently tangible. I used to be patient, but now these bubbles look to me like grains of sand inside an hourglass. I still ain’t done enough of what I truly love yet, only security for my future. But if that future isn’t foreseeable and not even guaranteed, I should really just grab a bubble and squeeze…

Or maybe not. The weight of comfort and uncertainty clutches my chest and halts me.

So I still sink.