I wonder how bad it would be, drowning. ...Wonder how long my breath would hold; how much water I'd swallow; how panicked I'd get before passing out. Wonder if it would be enough, just to stick my head in the rain barrel, or would I have to go down to the lake? Would I retch at the taste of lake-water? And what does one wear, to a drowning? I suppose it doesn't matter. Not any of my sweaters; it makes me sad, to think of them waterlogged and ruined. What about a sundress, and a belt of rocks? Go out in pre-Raphaelite glory.
I wonder how long it would take them to find the body, whether I'd drift up and be pulled ashore dimmed but lovely, ghostly beauty, like Eustacia Vye?
Probably not.