Day 2: Suffocating

The idea of suffocating has always simultaneously intrigued and frightened me. I think for me, the terror lies in the concept of consciously knowing you're dying while actively trying to prevent it from happening. The summer after graduating high school, I went to the beach with my family and noticed the waves were particularly strong. That said, I still jumped in and decided to tackle those waves and swim. It only took about 20 mins before a huge wave hit me from behind and brought me below the surface. I remember fighting against the seemingly omnipotent water, desperately gasping for air before another wave followed and dragged me under once again. Upon this, the rip current pulled me further towards the coast and I knew I needed help. As I grew more fatigued it became even more difficult to swim back to shore, so much so that I can recall the moment I questioned fighting back and simply fading into the sea. Giving up is memorable as it makes you understand how far you're willing to push yourself. In  a twisted way it almost commemorates your own mortality and stands as visible proof that you are only human. The last breath I took before being rescued is woven into the fabric of my memory.