I've always been different than other people.
Lights are too bright.
Noises are too loud.
I don't like to look at other people's faces.
I don't like it when they look at me.
And I really don't like it
when they touch me.
Lights are too bright.
Noises are too loud.
I don't like to look at other people's faces.
I don't like it when they look at me.
And I really don't like it
when they touch me.
But underwater, everything is different.
The ocean fills my ears and drowns out all the white noise I hear on land.
The ocean fills my ears and drowns out all the white noise I hear on land.
And I hear something
clearly in the water:
An echoing song ringing out from the depths
and maybe from somewhere inside of me, too.
clearly in the water:
An echoing song ringing out from the depths
and maybe from somewhere inside of me, too.
Swim down.
Facing the surface
The light still burns through my eyelids.
The light still burns through my eyelids.
So I listen to the voice,
turn my face to the darkness,
open my eyes,
and swim down.
