Drowning

I remember walking around feeling so self-conscious about my mark. I remember looking around, thinking that this was a graduation field trip and it was supposed to be fun, yet the whole world around me was silent. I felt as if I was totally alone in the middle of the crowd. I don’t know why I had chosen that bathing suit, I was only 9 years old! Why was I thinking this way? Thinking that I had a deformity of some sort, I could see the kids around me making fun of me, yet they were too busy having fun to even look at me and notice. I didn’t know what felt worse. My world was falling apart. I don’t even know how I managed to climb up those stairs to go down the water slide. I knew the pool was only a meter deep, I knew I had to prove myself somehow to make it through that day. I remember getting to the top and being terrified. Yet, when I took my glasses off and everything became a blur, I thought it’d be easier to fake enthusiasm and the sense of adventure. There were none of my friends close by to even talk to or show off to! What was I thinking? I went down the water slide and as the adrenaline rush took over me in a matter of seconds, I realized it wasn’t something I was ready for. The drop was steep, the blood must have rushed through my body and my brain fast, but when I made it to the water and gravity sank me deep in it, I didn’t think I could make it out. I could see the light on the surface, but it was way above my head. I could see blurry flashes of light… but I was sinking. Then I remembered I didn’t know how to swim. I forgot that the pool was only a meter deep, I felt as I was so tiny… so small in this universe of unknown density. I let myself go thinking it wasn’t even worth the try. I remember thinking that nobody would notice, and I remember –despite the gravity of my situation- feeling more concerned about the embarrassment for becoming the center of attention. Why can’t I just sink and die and just drown to the depths of another universe somehow? Why do I have to come afloat and leave evidence that I was even there to begin with? Who even cared where I was at? It was a stupid 6th grade fieldtrip that I was invited to, being a 5th grader… just because my friend was the teacher’s daughter. It wasn’t even right. I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I don’t think anyone would’ve had a memory of me after having dropped me off so early in the morning to go on this trip. Always felt as if they felt sorry for me somehow, and that was the reason why they would let me do things like that. Not because they meant it or cared, but more out of obligation, peer pressure, society demands, etc. I guess it all plays a part of why we make decisions. I think it was guilt; perhaps not guilt but pitty. Anyway, as I drowned, I realized it was painful to breathe all that water into my lungs. It was burning my insides. I don’t even know how I managed to stand up… to stretch my legs and stand on my feet and stand up above the water. As my head surfaced over the water, cough and hyperventilating… I started to hear people talking, and kids laughing. I realized it must have been a matter of seconds that I was under water. Perhaps a long moment, but not enough for anyone to notice. I stood up, put my glasses back on, and as the droplets cleared the glass, I saw nothing but a painting of a place I didn’t want to be a part of… ever gain. I think the idea of being able to share the story, of this “grown up” adventure… was going to be more rewarding than actually being there. I got out of the pool… crying but knowing the water on my face would disguise my tears… walking towards my chair. I remember looking down at my feet, seeing my birth mark, my mole on my chest…. Feeling so disgusted at everything which defined me. My glasses, my mole, my swimsuit, my hair… my reality. I hated being so aware of who I was. I hated being so abnormal. I hated having to exist in a place that didn’t seem like home. I just remember what she said to me… that when I grew up… the things I hated –my mole, for example- would become the traits of me that I would love the most and feel the most proud of. “It will one day be the sexiest thing,” she said… and I didn’t understand what exactly that meant. But I do remember how that day made me feel hopeful about growing up. I remember wanting to skip through all that stupid phase of being a child. I didn’t get it. Normal kids didn’t know or cared about what was really going on with them as much as I did about what was going on with me. I knew so much… or it felt as if I knew more than I should’ve. It was definitely more than what I could handle… more than I knew what to do with. More than I could deal with.