swimming [archive]

 Thinking about when I was a kid – diving into the deep end of a pool and swimming to reach the bottom. Swimming until pressure made the bridge of my nose pinch and I knew I was running out of air, but the bottom of the pool was just in my reach. Making it back up to the top felt impossible. A frantic kick of feet, an aching chest and one last bubble of air, gone. A quick thought of I’ve gone too far this time. But I would always reach the top. Break through with a dramatic flail of arms and gasps of air that hurt – thinking: next time. Next time, I’ll press my hand flat against the floor of the pool and I’ll stare upwards at the shimmering lights, and I’ll have won.

I can’t help but feel that way now. Coming up from a conversation with someone new, gasping for oxygen and feeling like I’ve gone too far. Pushed myself too far, for too little. Tried a million new things, halfway. I haven’t reached the bottom of the pool in a long time, haven’t felt like I’ve won since I was fourteen and held my breath for the longest at a pool party.

I can’t stop thinking about the past and the me that made so many stupid choices. Choices I’m still fixing, correcting, and changing. I think about sixteen and I think about how much I miss it and how I could never, ever stand to be sixteen again. But it was safe.

I feel like I’m swimming in pitch black water, uncharted territory, going so deep that there are no shining lights to look back on, only a long tunnel ahead to wade through.

free writing - from the archive - Jan 2024