your heart pounds too much looking for that removable rib to escape
(the title is from my sister)
I wonder what people think about when they sit beside the ocean.
Do they imagine themselves being engulfed by the waves? Do they imagine themselves floating to Costa Rica when the waves splash on their knees? Do they imagine, perhaps, they are stuck like anchors?
See, I hate writing about everyday events like this:
This weekend, I went to the beach with my officemates. I have no affinity to the sea; I have never learned how to swim despite the fact that we practically lived by the beach when we were younger.
But there was something different from this weekend from all my trips to the sea: Cliff-jumping.
Jumping a 19-feet cliff felt like resignation/resurrection for me. I do not know how to swim. To jump on that cliff to the sea would be like suicide but I still did.
Photo by Alvin Bello, one of my favorite officemates.
I imagined myself flailing my arms underwater. I imagined my legs kicking my entire weight to the surface. I imagined gasping for the first breath of air after diving. I imagined pushing myself to the rocks. I imagined until the moment I dove.
I did everything I imagined myself doing. It felt like being reborn knowing my fear died in the water when I dove. I still do not know how to swim; I am contented knowing that somehow I can save myself.
I wonder what people think about when they sit beside the ocean.
Do they imagine themselves being engulfed by the waves? Do they imagine themselves floating to Costa Rica when the waves splash on their knees? Do they imagine, perhaps, they are stuck like anchors?
See, I hate writing about everyday events like this:
This weekend, I went to the beach with my officemates. I have no affinity to the sea; I have never learned how to swim despite the fact that we practically lived by the beach when we were younger.
But there was something different from this weekend from all my trips to the sea: Cliff-jumping.
Jumping a 19-feet cliff felt like resignation/resurrection for me. I do not know how to swim. To jump on that cliff to the sea would be like suicide but I still did.
Photo by Alvin Bello, one of my favorite officemates.
I imagined myself flailing my arms underwater. I imagined my legs kicking my entire weight to the surface. I imagined gasping for the first breath of air after diving. I imagined pushing myself to the rocks. I imagined until the moment I dove.
I did everything I imagined myself doing. It felt like being reborn knowing my fear died in the water when I dove. I still do not know how to swim; I am contented knowing that somehow I can save myself.