My heart is heavy and my thoughts are clouded with doubt. I feel like I'm stuck inside a toy zeppelin leaking air. I keep running around as the plastic implodes upon itself. My body is molded in rubber: I can't seem to move. I'm dead.
All I see is red!
Tears stream down my face, paving new gullies for upcoming storms. Will I weather this one, can I tie myself tight enough to the mast as the wet winds whip and hammer at me, smashing my tiny boat into sky-scraping swells?
I know I'll drown if I go under; I can't swim.
I need help. Where is the coast guard? The life guards?
Oh, God, please help me. I'll try to keep my head above water as long as I can, but I grow tired. My arms and legs are heavy.