That moment.

That time I was drowning six years ago was so typical of me. It was exactly like now. I never called for help. I tried to pick up other people's shit while I was in the water. I tried to swim in the floodwaters and then got confused when I didn't make it anywhere. I gave up and let the water throw me around and still didn't call for help, even mentally, until the last second when I thought something along the lines of "God, just so you know, I'm going to need some oxygen right about now, or I'll die." And then I suddenly knew which way was "up," and kicked as hard as I could, and barely broke the surface in time. All that is textbook me, except for the part where I asked for and accepted help. It's funny how many different kinds of drowning there are.