She thought that her moist skin was a symbol of her sanity, that

Her pearly cheeks warm with another fresh batch of tears were the very thing that kept her insides intact and functioning.

She thought that she enjoyed the waters, though testy they were, for there was no happily ever after without

A little conflict in the plot, and a little trouble to send her mounting to the climax where there would be no other way but

Down

To her sweet, happy ending.

But when society told her: "Chins up."

They declared war on her ideals of thinking, claimed she were a nuisance if she didn't poke her head out of the waters to

Gasp in the bounteous, fresh, clean air.

They'd throw her panadols and breadcrumbs and she used to think she could survive only on the latter but now as

Their whispers grew ever convincing, her features now ever paling,

She'd binge on the pills until her muscles grew sore and

She finally understood normality.

It looked like a sunny day out, felt like a toasty blanket of fluff hugging tightly to her skinny, frail frame,

Smelt like marshmallows by the fire and sounded like the giggles of peers, asking about cheeky romances and latest gossips and

"Oh my God! How are you?"

And she learned that it wasn't ever a subjective question, that

There was only one proper way of answering: smile wide, look their way with all the sincerity you can muster within you and say "Good."

Say more and you'll be considered a freak.

Say less and you'll be considered a freak.

Because society needs to know you're somewhere out there on the spectrum of happiness (and, God forbid, no details please!) and

Not lurking beneath your sorrows, letting the water turn you to a rusted, wrinkled version of what you should be because

There's no fun in being sad.

But that's okay.

Once upon a time, she swore she need not walk up onto land and fake her own joys in life,

Once upon a time, she swore all she needed was some time alone in the greater depths of her thoughts but

Those were merely 'once upon a time's.

She needed to live in the future.

Smelling of lemon and oil and spices galore, she splashed her way onto the surface, seeking for more and

Even though her scales fell off her greying, wrinkled skin and

Even though her gills repulsed, forlorn, begging to swim in

Those oceans and thoughts that she once dubbed home,

She could not because

Heck, she may be physically dying but, hey

At least she'd look a little better dead, smiling.

A/N: It is 3am in the morning and I am so sleepy but I needed to get this out now haha. xD Hope you all enjoyed this! :)

Also, I'm still open to any requests if you guys have any ideas on any foods that you want featured in a poem!