Life as a different object

A hollow stone ball
That is what I have become.
With walls just 
thick enough to look strong
But I am an illusion
Completely hollow on the inside
Empty to an extreme degree
What do you do when the ground you were standing of,
so sure of its strength
is pulled abruptly pulled out from under you?
I have fallen into the ocean.
And am struggling to keep my head 
just enough above the tumultuous waves
so as not to drown
But not much more.
Luckily, there are pieces of driftwood floating about
I grasp onto these desperately 
Clinging to the remnants of what once was.
But, like all things
these temporary lifeboats are eroded by time
Bit by rotten bit 
Just slowly enough to make the drowning
as painful as possible.
And suddenly your lungs are filled with water
and all you have left
are the memories.