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Dead Weight

The moment you become, indeed, happy and healthy – rid of the anchor that dragged you to the bottom, filled your lungs with water, and chained you to self-doubt. Only now do I realize that I breached the surface of that place some time ago. A glance back toward the blackness now reveals no recognizable reflection, but a man with a death-cheating smile that flashes toward tomorrow. Undoubtedly does a return to the abyss peak curiosity, but only as the sun shines upon one sparkle of that sunken weight not ravaged by rust. It is the type of curiosity, however, that elicits pity, not longing. How lonely it must be, trapped forever by its maker’s design, to disappear as the whipping tails of sharks bury it with sand.

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