treading water

trigger warning: implied suicidal ideation

you know, when i was little, i went swimming almost every. single. day. and i remember, how all of those years were mostly just spent, chasing that feeling i’d get, the moment my head ducked under the water.

and the silence would envelop me, in its arms; loving and motherly. and i was… completely at peace. for a second. where no one could reach me. and sometimes, i can’t help but miss that feeling.

because some silence would be nice right now. as i pound my fists against a self-induced glass ceiling. and maybe someday, i’ll finally be able to think about doing something better with my life than simply not drowning. treading water. just barely keeping up with the tossing, and turning of the tides. and yeah, maybe every now and then, my limbs start to ache. maybe sometimes, i sort of want to die.

maybe my arms start to shudder, under the weight of a feather, and my legs tremble in the ice cold water. maybe i can’t keep this up forever.

and maybe some silence… would be nice for a change. i think i’m ready to surrender.

to lie down. and let the ocean carry me away.


First off, I just want to say that I am safe. Reading over this, I realize how you could interpret this piece–but I promise that when I discuss themes of giving up, I don’t mean them in the sense of death–I just giving up on hopes, and dreams, or things I’ve spent a long time working very hard on. And with that aside, onto the post!


I don’t think about it a lot, but swimming was really formative for me growing up. I used to be really good at it, and one time I came in third place in a triathlon when I was in either fourth or fifth grade, I think. I could have probably gotten into it competitively if I wanted to/had the funds to. My parents are really sporty, and so I ended up dabbling in a lot of sports growing up, most of which I just kinda did because they were doing them. But for some reason, swimming stuck.

Growing up, and even now, no matter how ridiculous it might be, I always have to be the best person in every room at everything, even if it’s as silly as a board game. It’s kind of just an instinct, honestly. But a really shitty one, that makes life a lot harder than it needs to be So anyhow, for a couple years, I chased after being the best kid in the whole swimming club; the kid who blew everyone away, because at the tender age of eight, swimming was… well, it was a pretty huge part of my identity. When I think about that time, all I remember is this constant pressure and stress, making it hard to so much as sleep. It felt like I was just treading water.

Just barely keeping up with the other kids, maintaining my status as the smart girl, the strong girl, the fast girl…

But I was also nine. And tired. I knew that. I remember the long nights I would spend, just wondering when I’d finally reach the point where I couldn’t keep this kind of work up anymore. When finally, there was someone who I couldn’t beat. That terrified me.

Honestly, that thought still does terrify me. (Obviously, in a very different way, since I’m much older now, but it’s still very much there in my brain.)

I guess, I’m just kinda feeling a bit burnt out right now. And I’m still working out how to deal with it.

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

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