It stings when I open my eyes. I force them open anyway, because it’s better to see even a little than to not. It’s murky and dark; maybe not so different than having my eyes closed.
I’m pushing through the water and it gives way; resistance is only a small part of its vocabulary. Still, it’s slower than moving through air (even slower, because I don’t know where I’m pushing to).
I don’t dare to breathe.