When Writing's a Knee-Jerk Reaction, This is What You Get
I got back home, ran up to my room. Got out, quick. Ran. Outside, across the grass, up the stairs. No time. Go. Jump.
Splash.
I screamed in the only place where I felt that I could and no one would come running: underwater.
For some reason, water always makes me feel better. It's one of the very few things in my life that I've never brothered questioning.
After that, it got better, slowly. I surfaced. What to do now? I made a few rounds. Back-stroke, free-style, breath-stroke, which are all of course incredibly rusty. The last time I was able to swim with any finesse was the last time I ever had a growth spurt. I got tired, so, I decided to float, letting my torso do the work of being a buoy while the rest of me dangled in the water, my body suspended.
Then, slowly, arms and legs began to move. Careful. Graceful. A horizontal ballerina going through the steps flawlessly, yet my feet never touched the ground. I melted into the blue-green-clear and stare up at the blue sky criss-crossed by white.
My minds tends to drift toward the universe whenever I'm in the pool. I look at the sky, see it as the cap to the snow-globe we all live in. I think of all the stretches of land that I've never set feet on, and then of everything just waiting outside and beyond the atmosphere, past Pluto.
Eventually, I finally got out, and back to the house, to myself. Mom asked how the job-training went. I told her it didn't happen, since no one was there to train me. After all the worrying and traffic and last minute purchasing of a shirt in the fear that the first shirt wasn't in the dress code, it didn't happen, and I still have yet to work a day this summer.
There are some days when the only solution you come up with over and over again in trying to figure out the equation that is the events that make up your day is Murphy's Law.
Splash.
I screamed in the only place where I felt that I could and no one would come running: underwater.
For some reason, water always makes me feel better. It's one of the very few things in my life that I've never brothered questioning.
After that, it got better, slowly. I surfaced. What to do now? I made a few rounds. Back-stroke, free-style, breath-stroke, which are all of course incredibly rusty. The last time I was able to swim with any finesse was the last time I ever had a growth spurt. I got tired, so, I decided to float, letting my torso do the work of being a buoy while the rest of me dangled in the water, my body suspended.
Then, slowly, arms and legs began to move. Careful. Graceful. A horizontal ballerina going through the steps flawlessly, yet my feet never touched the ground. I melted into the blue-green-clear and stare up at the blue sky criss-crossed by white.
My minds tends to drift toward the universe whenever I'm in the pool. I look at the sky, see it as the cap to the snow-globe we all live in. I think of all the stretches of land that I've never set feet on, and then of everything just waiting outside and beyond the atmosphere, past Pluto.
Eventually, I finally got out, and back to the house, to myself. Mom asked how the job-training went. I told her it didn't happen, since no one was there to train me. After all the worrying and traffic and last minute purchasing of a shirt in the fear that the first shirt wasn't in the dress code, it didn't happen, and I still have yet to work a day this summer.
There are some days when the only solution you come up with over and over again in trying to figure out the equation that is the events that make up your day is Murphy's Law.