Waning Life

I was swimming, trying to decide if I felt sick or great, but the decision was difficult and I really didn't care. I was slipping into an unknown, and was fearfully trying to hold myself back.


I know somewhere in the back of my mind that I was laying flat and still on my back, and yet I perceived an awful, slow, uncontrollable weaving, spinning, of my environment which consisted of distraught companions in their fatigues.


They were in some sort of tension and disbelief, as they sorted through their emotions. It seems they finally settled on grimness and depression. I seemed to be in a small, fading, dingy barrack that I unknowingly felt at home in. I felt an arm clutch mine. A dull prick, a burning sensation spreading through my body. Seizing my waning life.