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| The Life of The Lost Girl: a creative fictional diary, sometimes based on certain factual truths. |
The Deep End
Have you ever looked in the deep end and wanted fall in? I would often picture myself floating then sinking deeper into the abyss—the coldness of the dark water numbing my bones as I stare up at the blurred sunlight. I'd imagine the bubbles that escape from my lips float to the surface and the comforting silence of the still water as I sink further down.
As I reach the bottom, I'd lie there for a while, staring up, and get this faint glimmer of hope as though at any second, a hand would reach out for me. But there's nothing, there's no one—just me and the water surrounding my body. Everything is dead still as if time itself had frozen and fallen in with me. I wouldn't feel anything, I wouldn't think a single thought, I would just lie there like a feather and drift ever so slightly. But then the sun begins to fade and whatever colour I could see turns to grey. And before I know it, I blink and realise I'm drowning.
I'd gasp and find myself on the edge of the deep end, staring down at the water. As a tear falls from my chin, a pale hand suddenly rises from the dark water reaching out for me. Her hand looked like mine except colourless—lifeless. I'd stand there for a moment and consider taking it, accepting it, until I realise I'm on the opposite end of all this. That girl I would picture was down there somewhere: alone, numb, sinking, drowning and calling my name. I wanted to help her, but not this way. I wouldn't let her pull me under, I wouldn't let her drown me and I wouldn't give it the power to end me. So despite how tempting and hard it was to reject her hand each time, I'd walk away and leave her to drown in her own misery.
As I reach the bottom, I'd lie there for a while, staring up, and get this faint glimmer of hope as though at any second, a hand would reach out for me. But there's nothing, there's no one—just me and the water surrounding my body. Everything is dead still as if time itself had frozen and fallen in with me. I wouldn't feel anything, I wouldn't think a single thought, I would just lie there like a feather and drift ever so slightly. But then the sun begins to fade and whatever colour I could see turns to grey. And before I know it, I blink and realise I'm drowning.
I'd gasp and find myself on the edge of the deep end, staring down at the water. As a tear falls from my chin, a pale hand suddenly rises from the dark water reaching out for me. Her hand looked like mine except colourless—lifeless. I'd stand there for a moment and consider taking it, accepting it, until I realise I'm on the opposite end of all this. That girl I would picture was down there somewhere: alone, numb, sinking, drowning and calling my name. I wanted to help her, but not this way. I wouldn't let her pull me under, I wouldn't let her drown me and I wouldn't give it the power to end me. So despite how tempting and hard it was to reject her hand each time, I'd walk away and leave her to drown in her own misery.
really nice post thank you for sharing
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Another masterpiece, dear. You are so good with stories and poetry with depth.
ReplyDeleteAww, thank you so much lovely! :)
DeleteThank you... I can *so* relate:
ReplyDelete"the coldness of the dark water numbing my bones as I stare up at the blurred sunlight. I'd imagine the bubbles that escape from my lips float to the surface and the comforting silence of the still water as I sink further down."
Such a tragic scene of drowning... but also:
"That girl I would picture was down there somewhere: alone, numb, sinking, drowing and calling my name. I wanted to help her... So despite how tempting and hard it was to reject her hand each time, I'd walk away and leave her to drown in her own misery."
Oh such imagery, and so much rejection... sad... but I can relate and you have to write how you feel!!
Thank you for reading!
DeleteYeah, that's one thing I love so much about writing is because every story or scene can be intrepreted in a different way. Every reader gets a different experience and a different view.
When I wrote this piece, I wasn't sure how readers would interpret this scene—the scene of her drowning. Some might see/read it as her reflecting on the time she fell in and tried to end her own life (and it is possible she might have), but the girl in the water (the pale hand reaching out) is actually her depression trying to pull her under and drown her.
Not sure if you saw it that way, but I figured I needed to explain that somewhere in case someone who reads it doesn't understand. :)
I did not see her depression as the drowning force (so to speak)... but I did see it!
DeleteAnyway, thanks for sharing your insight... it feels me with joy (despite the dark nature of your poetry)!