Watered Down

CW: Mental health, drowning, suffocation

Did you know that the pain of suffocation comes not from the lack of oxygen but from the overabundance of carbon dioxide in the body? Carbon dioxide is technically a toxic waste product created when you breathe oxygen, so your body is naturally attuned to it. When you have too much, you feel a burning sensation in your lungs and your throat. Maybe your head hurts or your extremities tremble. Try holding your breath for a minute straight. It's unpleasant, isn't it?

I wouldn't say I'm unprepared to die. I've spent more time ruminating on mortality than is probably healthy, hence my Wikipedia deep-dives into topics such as asphyxiation. That said, I never planned to experience this pain I've read so much about. It was supposed to be mere trivia to me.

It was supposed to be trivia.

Who the hell in their right mind is prepared for a shipwreck besides the captain and crew? Not me. As I drift here, desparately trying to keep my head above the waves, I feel the carbon dioxide filling my veins. It's agonizing. I'm panting like a dog, gasping for each and every breath, trying in vain to steal more and more oxygen from the atmosphere.

Is it irrational to think that I might be stealing it from my fellow passengers? I guess it's about as irrational as being prepared for a shipwreck.

Drowning aside, this vacation to Italy has been fun; I'd like to continue it. Italian food is my favorite. If only I'd slept in this morning, I could have been enjoying a seafood pasta dinner. Instead, I'm the seafood. How funny.

My sister took her post-graduation trip to Germany. It's summer so I doubt she's doing any skiing and Oktoberfest isn't until, weirdly, September. I considered going with her but decided not to when I learned she would be going with a boy she met in STEM. I regret not being a third wheel. While she gets to imbibe the best beer in the world, I'm tasting salty sea tears.

God, how long have I been fluttering my legs like a moth's wings? The sky is dark and the sun is hidden beneath the clouds. Or are those waves? Are those flashes lightning, or flickers of sunlight breaking through the surface?

It hurts. I was thrown overboard when the boat capsized, and something metal hit me on the head. I might be bleeding into the water. Are there sharks in the Mediterranian? Death by shark might be a mercy compared to this slow labor.

When will help come? How much more carbon dioxide do I have to drown in? I don't know if my head is over or under anymore. I take in lungfuls - of what, I don't know. My clothes are heavier than the fog in my brain. My eyelids drift shut and open an indeterminable amount of time later. I think I dream of someone calling my name.

I know it's a dream because nobody on that boat knew me. It was a passenger liner from Sicily to Malta, and I don't speak enough Italian to chat with strangers. I don't know the Italian word for "life jacket" either.

Perhaps my lack of preparedness is a personal failing. I should have expected I'd be in a shipwreck, should have expected I'd need a life jacket before standing on the deck like an idiot. Instead of practical information like that, the only foresight I had is the exact knowledge of what's killing me.

Killing me. I'm dying. It hits me like a-a metal thing to the head. I'm dying, and there's nothing I can do about it except struggle. So, that's what I do. I struggle, and flail, and cry, and scream empty bubbles.

Nothing happens. Clearly, my efforts are being wasted. I should try to reach land. That'd do more for my current situation than wallowing.

Which direction is land again? I try to spin and get lost in the darkness. There isn't a single hint of light in any direction. Shit, am I underwater? Forget land, which direction is up?

Opening my mouth, I gag when a rush of brine coats my tongue. I'm underwater.

I promptly close my mouth and continue suffocating myself. Swinging my arms wildly in every direction, I try to sense the moment my hands touch air, but they don't. I'm deep enough that I can't touch the surface. How far have I sunk? I swear I saw that lightning only a minute ago.

One of the dangers of swimming in the dark is disorientation. Another bit of trivia which doesn't actually help me at present. I used to think the people who wrote those articles were full of it. "How could anyone get lost underwater? Just point your feet down and swim up," I'd say.

As it turns out, "down" is relative. Astronauts train to operate in zero-gravity environments by wearing their space suits underwater. NASA's known for a long time that the effects of gravity are hard to discern in the depths. It makes sense that there's similarities between humanity's two unexplored frontiers: the ocean and space.

Drifting jetsam me, I pretend that the currents are stardust and my leaden clothes are kevlar. I didn't fall off a boat - my tether broke while I was performing critical maintenance on the space station's hull. I don't hear a foghorn and my fellow astronauts don't hear my screams because sound doesn't travel in the vacuum of space.

This darkness creeping in around the edges of my vision isn't Hell's cold embrace, it's the pitch black void of empty space. Doesn't matter if I'm in water or a vacuum; I'd be dying either way.

There's a brilliant light in the distance. I reach for it.

I've done all I can, run my thoughts in enough circles I could have used them as a boat's propeller. Has my fantasy gone on long enough for rescue to come? When did it transition from play pretend to a dying dream? ...Whatever. I'm not ashamed.

At least if I imagine I'm an astronaut, I'll die reaching for the moon.