I'm honestly not sure where to even begin with this.

It's been well, almost a year to the day now, and I still can't fully understand or comprehend what happened that day.

Neither have I been able to fully get over it.

I floated from one psychologist and psychiatrist to another, always tell me that what I experienced couldn't possibly have occurred,

and yet as much as they try to make my mind believe that, both with words and medication,

as much as I try and make my mind believe it wasn't real.

I know deep, deep inside myself there was.

So I'm choosing to post my account of this here, both as deep inside myself that it was.

So I'm choosing to post my account of this here,

both as a admittedly rather pathetic attempt to release some of the guilt in horror that I've carried with me since that day,

and more importantly, as a warning to anyone who listen you see I used to love scuba diving I became

certified when I was 16 years old I've dove dove both in freshwater and salt water ever since.

I've met and become friends with many great and talented people because of it. And Tyler,

Tyler was one of them. Daredevil at heart and always up for an adventure. I took him under my wing, as he was less experienced than I was, and a few years younger than me.

He eventually became close enough that we called each other brothers, and though we lived in different states,

we always met up at least once a year to go on a scuba diving trip.

That was, up until the pandemic hit a few years ago.

And when it hit, due to the quarantines and difficulty to travel that it made,

we rode off our annual meetup for 2020 and 2021.

We kept in touch, but it just didn't feel the same.

The one afternoon in April of 2022, I received a phone call from him. All the usual cheeriness and the bravado seemed to have been sucked out of his voice.

He told me that his work had chosen to lay him off as a way to cut back spending costs due

...