Not really there

All the while, I feel like not being really here, not being alive. I'm somewhat detached from who I am, and I want myself back. I just want to be.

Sometimes I feel so high above all
like a silent satellite
flying in an orbit
and watching myself down there
doing things that are not mine,
living in a world that isn't mine;
like a bird that is flying too high

with no place to rest,
no twig to come home to.
It's cold up here, and lonely,
and life is far away, down there.

And then again,

sometimes I feel like I'm under water,
not too far down,
but the things and people on the dry land
all seem blurry
and the sound is distorted.
And it seems
that whenever I try to come to the surface
to take a breath
whenever I want to get out of the water
something is pushing me down again,
and I don't know how long
the air in my lungs
will last.
It's pretty damn cold down here amongst the fish.
And lonely, too.