The water.
There's something about the water that draws me ever to it. May it be the pool in the backyard, the river in the woods, or the sea beyond the beach. I can't pin point out exactly what it is, but it's always been like this, the water and I. It's my haven away from the troubles and mishaps in this world, and sometimes I still think that I should have been born a fish, a shark, maybe even a mermaid. Silly, I know.
This mass of hydrogen two and oxygen one can be of the intimidating sort. At times it is violent, wreaking havoc with its tremendous force. Then there are those moments when it is meek, ever gently rocking you, drifting you away. I understand the water and its emotions. We share mutual feelings, the water and I. I admit there are occasions when I can't comprehend it, when it frightens me beyond my wits. Its dark depths a mystery until you jump in. But after that jump comes one of my favorite feelings in this whole universe.
The feeling you get when you blow out the air and let yourself sink down, down, down into the bottom. Nothing can compare to that instance, the instance that feels like infinity. It's intimate down there. Just me and the water, the water and I. Quiet. Peaceful. Down there, all the way down, I'm content. I am safe. Nothing can touch me. The feeling of invincibility surges through me. And when I open my eyes and see nothing but blurry hues of blue, I am home.
It's only when that choking needing comes, that cursed need for our bodies to breathe, that I wake up and realize sadly that this is not the home I was made for. Yet I stay there till I am to the point of drowning. To the point where my brain is giving off all signals in flashing red lights, "WARNING! STOP! BREATHE!" Only then do I come up. I swim to the surface, almost dying and when I get to the top and take that desperate gasp of air, I feel so ...
Alive.
Happy Trails,
M.E.P.
