I’m holding on tightly to your hand, but slowly and gradually, I am slipping further and further down until the shadows touch my ankles and creep up my legs. It’s hard to hold a hand, when they’ve already let go.

The shadows are touching my thighs, I’m pleading for you to hold on. There’s sweat dripping down my face, I cannot see, I’m terrified. All I can hear is you apologizing over and over again, I’ve long lost count.

Half of my torso is now covered in darkness, I tried to scream out, but you don’t hear me. You’ve stopped listening. It occurs to me, that perhaps, I should let go too. Make it clean and fast, like I never mattered. But still, I’m holding on.

Now I’m up to my neck inside of my own darkness. I cannot speak at all, the shadows are clasping around my throat. All I can do is… watch it happen. Once last shred of hope is awaiting. To pull me up last second and never lose a grasp on me again. That’s all I have, wishful thinking.

Overall, there is a choice. You can hold my hand or you can let go. I’ve never lossened my grasp and I’ve never understood what I did to deserve this, hanging on there, by mere fingers. I cannot make you choose, I cannot make you pick me up and never let me go.

After all of that, I still hope that you choose to hold my hand. Or i’ll be plumiting throughout the darkness forever.