I was always being swept away by the current, it hit me hard. Crushed my lungs, bruised my skin, bloodied my face and body. I never understood why.
Sometimes I was able to rise to the surface, but no matter how loud I screamed in agony; begging and pleading for help, no one came to rescue me. The waves dragged me down to the very bottom and drained all the life from my very soul; I was losing the energy to fight and my will to live. I knew the waves would keep coming and coming, faster and faster, and harder than before; it was suffocating, tiring, and my harsh reality.
The deeper I sank the water grew colder and darker, to a point where I couldn't see what was ahead of me. After years of this endless torment, I realized whenever I gave up, the waves would become more severe and knock me about. I couldn't take it anymore, I fought to get to the surface; the waves slaming down on me, thrashing me in different directions, allowing me to float to the surface only to crash down on me again; it was playing with me.
I gave up yet again and let myself be tormented, no resistance, no tears; this time the waves hit me with less passion and more anger; as if it wanted me to fight a worthless battle.
I felt something erupt within me and I pushed myself up, higher and higher; I could feel the water get warm with excitement. I lashed out and forced myself not to stop until I made it to the shore; it took me six years, six long and painful years.
That pain is forever instilled in me, to this very hour of this day...but I made it.