My life has always been hard. Even since my youngest days. I do not have much to look back on.
But I have one fantastic memory. Everyone had gone to bed, or was too drunk to walk. Either way, I had the television to myself. I was not old enough to use the remote with confidence, so I had to stick with whatever channel appeared when you pressed the big red button.
The programme was a documentary about fish at the bottom of the ocean. How odd their bodies are. All neon light, teeth and translucent skin. Like a funfair at thirteen thousand feet. They reminded me of the neon light of the city I lived in.
I was transfixed. This was an astonishing discovery. The most beautiful animals in the known universe living so far down.
This secret world played through my mind when things got tough. That half hour of television provided enormous comfort over the years. But on this occasion, everything had gone too far. Business associates that cannot be paid off. Concrete boots and the edge of a boat. The frosty night air, and the crushing water below.
There is no time for a speech, or a chance of redemption. Just a heave, and over I go.
The water is a freezing smack of ice that makes the outside seem tropical. Blinding. Utterly suffocating. But the worst part is the dragging sensation on my legs. The block around my feet pulling down and down threatening to tear them both off. My vision darkens, and the weight of my anchor is all encompassing.
When I wake up, I cannot breathe. But the tightness and panic in my chest is gone. All sense of urgency and fear is gone. I take the risk of opening my eyes.
The water does not sting. My limbs are motionless bags of sand. All is dark. Except for the fish swimming around me. Their psychedelic glow moves in a constant carnival stream. This is a party at the bottom of the ocean, and I am the guest of honour.
For the first time in a long while I am happy.
