Below

Is life worth living if you can't live it?
Existence is pain, but so is death.
And I'm caught somewhere in between.
Between this and that it's hard to breathe.
I must catch my breath, again and again.
If I could just breathe above the surface.
Then maybe I could swim to the shore.
But there is no shore only and endless sea.

So here I tread, barely keeping afloat.
It's painfull and unfulfillingly somber.
I wonder, is it cold below?
Maybe I should let go.
Is it peaceful below?