Oct 2012
Blue.
That’s all I can see everywhere I look.
Beautiful dangerous blue.
I feel like I’m suspended in air, light, free, but sinking.
I’m running out of air! I think as my lungs start constricting themselves.
My feet finally touch the black and blue-white tile; my hair comes down around my face, soft, like feathers.
I look up and I can see the lights on the ceiling, and beyond that the fluffy white clouds in the baby blue sky.
I feel so heavy. I don’t think I can make it back up again. I push feebly at the floor, but I don’t get anywhere.
My vision starts to dim, and as I sink limply to my knees, I sigh.
What’s the point of even trying anymore? I watch the bubbles dance their way back to the surface.
I know I should try again, but I’m just too tired.
Another parade of bubbles escape my parted lips, my drowsy lids slowly close, the thudding heartbeat in my ears lulling me to sleep, and setting the tempo for the tiny air dancers as they float toward the sky.
In the darkness I feel an immense weight lift from my shoulders, and my eyes fly open.
What’s going on?!
I look to the left and right, everything is still blue. I realize I’m still at the bottom, but I feel weightless.
The pain in my chest is gone and the thumping in my ears. I turn around and look directly into my own face. Understanding hits me like a runaway whale, but I don’t want to believe it’s true. I want to feel sad, yet there’s no emotion trying to overtake me; nothing to fight. I reach out and touch my cold cheek.
Why? Is the only thing running through my cotton stuffed head. Again I look over my sleeping face, my hand traveling over my features.
I have to be sure. I gently lift one lid.
The brown eye I look into is dull, empty… lifeless. I expect a train wreck of emotion to come crashing down on me, but I feel nothing.
A flurry of movement above me catches my eye, and I look up to see Mr.Jones jetting down towards me. He reaches my body, quickly wrapping an arm around my stomach.
He kicks off the bottom paddling his way to the surface, my useless arms and legs trailing after him like limp seaweed. I follow him, walking through the smooth blue. Mr.Jones breaks the surface, clenching me to his side as he tows me to the wall.
A waterfall of chlorinated water gushed from my mouth, and I am yanked, like a shard of metal to a magnet, back into my body. I cough and spit, riding my lungs of the foreign substance. Mr.Jones boosts me up on the wall and pats my back until I can breathe again.
My grandmother rushes over and hugs me to her despite the fact that I’m sopping wet. She brushes my hair away from my face and asks if I’m alright.
I do my best to nod, but I don’t think I’m very successful; seeing as I’m shaking so hard. I try to get up, but my legs are like silly string. Gram helps me up and half supports half carries me to the locker rooms.
I stand under the shower in my swimsuit, hot water pelting the top of my head; masking the silent tears that are streaming down my face. Despite the water’s heat, I’m still shivering and my whole body is cold; inside and out.
I get out, towel off, and put on a pair of blue jeans and a plain red shirt. The bright red a comforting change from the cold, clear blue.
I stand in front of the mirror and brush the tangles from my hair, but I won’t look into the mirror. I cant. I’m afraid of what will be staring back at me.
I don’t know how long I stand in front of the mirror trying to make myself look up. It feels like hours. I feel a hand come down on my shoulder and I jump. I look up warily and sigh with relief.
Oh good, it’s just Gram. She says its time to leave and she goes to get my bag. I take a deep breath, cough a few times, and force myself to face the mirror. Staring back at me is a girl- me yet its not me somehow. Something is different, my hair is the same, my face is the same, but wait!
I lean over the sink, nearly pressing my nose against the glass. Now I see whats so different, what changes everything. I step back from the mirror and stare into the strangely cold, older looking eyes, and think...
*That's me...
That’s all I can see everywhere I look.
Beautiful dangerous blue.
I feel like I’m suspended in air, light, free, but sinking.
I’m running out of air! I think as my lungs start constricting themselves.
My feet finally touch the black and blue-white tile; my hair comes down around my face, soft, like feathers.
I look up and I can see the lights on the ceiling, and beyond that the fluffy white clouds in the baby blue sky.
I feel so heavy. I don’t think I can make it back up again. I push feebly at the floor, but I don’t get anywhere.
My vision starts to dim, and as I sink limply to my knees, I sigh.
What’s the point of even trying anymore? I watch the bubbles dance their way back to the surface.
I know I should try again, but I’m just too tired.
Another parade of bubbles escape my parted lips, my drowsy lids slowly close, the thudding heartbeat in my ears lulling me to sleep, and setting the tempo for the tiny air dancers as they float toward the sky.
In the darkness I feel an immense weight lift from my shoulders, and my eyes fly open.
What’s going on?!
I look to the left and right, everything is still blue. I realize I’m still at the bottom, but I feel weightless.
The pain in my chest is gone and the thumping in my ears. I turn around and look directly into my own face. Understanding hits me like a runaway whale, but I don’t want to believe it’s true. I want to feel sad, yet there’s no emotion trying to overtake me; nothing to fight. I reach out and touch my cold cheek.
Why? Is the only thing running through my cotton stuffed head. Again I look over my sleeping face, my hand traveling over my features.
I have to be sure. I gently lift one lid.
The brown eye I look into is dull, empty… lifeless. I expect a train wreck of emotion to come crashing down on me, but I feel nothing.
A flurry of movement above me catches my eye, and I look up to see Mr.Jones jetting down towards me. He reaches my body, quickly wrapping an arm around my stomach.
He kicks off the bottom paddling his way to the surface, my useless arms and legs trailing after him like limp seaweed. I follow him, walking through the smooth blue. Mr.Jones breaks the surface, clenching me to his side as he tows me to the wall.
A waterfall of chlorinated water gushed from my mouth, and I am yanked, like a shard of metal to a magnet, back into my body. I cough and spit, riding my lungs of the foreign substance. Mr.Jones boosts me up on the wall and pats my back until I can breathe again.
My grandmother rushes over and hugs me to her despite the fact that I’m sopping wet. She brushes my hair away from my face and asks if I’m alright.
I do my best to nod, but I don’t think I’m very successful; seeing as I’m shaking so hard. I try to get up, but my legs are like silly string. Gram helps me up and half supports half carries me to the locker rooms.
I stand under the shower in my swimsuit, hot water pelting the top of my head; masking the silent tears that are streaming down my face. Despite the water’s heat, I’m still shivering and my whole body is cold; inside and out.
I get out, towel off, and put on a pair of blue jeans and a plain red shirt. The bright red a comforting change from the cold, clear blue.
I stand in front of the mirror and brush the tangles from my hair, but I won’t look into the mirror. I cant. I’m afraid of what will be staring back at me.
I don’t know how long I stand in front of the mirror trying to make myself look up. It feels like hours. I feel a hand come down on my shoulder and I jump. I look up warily and sigh with relief.
Oh good, it’s just Gram. She says its time to leave and she goes to get my bag. I take a deep breath, cough a few times, and force myself to face the mirror. Staring back at me is a girl- me yet its not me somehow. Something is different, my hair is the same, my face is the same, but wait!
I lean over the sink, nearly pressing my nose against the glass. Now I see whats so different, what changes everything. I step back from the mirror and stare into the strangely cold, older looking eyes, and think...
*That's me...
