I walked through the river

with no regrets to spare.

It welcomed me not as victim,

but as something it already knew.

Not to disappear,

but to see if silence

would feel like peace

this time.

I could drown here.

And I do.

But my lungs have learned the language

of quiet suffocation.

They say I pulled them in.

That my current

was too much.

Too persuasive.

Too me.

But no one saw the way

I kept sinking

just to make them float.

My body was temporary.

So was my kindness.

My mind cracked

in soft lines no one noticed.

It wasn’t a breakdown.

Just erosion.

They speak of betrayal

like it’s a future event.

But I’ve felt it

in every apology

that arrived too late.

And still,

they say I’m the influence.

The one who ruins.

The one who knows too much.

Fine.

Let them name me villain

if it helps them sleep.

I walked into the river.

Not with regret,

just resignation.

It’s easier to drown

when you stop pretending

you want to breathe.

Because the truth?

Once the water claims you,

you don’t rise.

You just stop needing air

the way others do.

- Ikkel Y. -