Writing creatively might feel weird to you- cheesy or foreign. However, this week I challenge you to try it! Whether it's fiction, a reflective poem or creative nonfiction, writing in a way that is different from what you normally do in an essay or journal is therapeutic for both the mind, but also your writing capabilities. It stretches your imagination, and boosts your vocabulary. It makes you examine your life from every angle.
This here is a prologue to something- maybe someday I'll write a book.
But, without further ado: drowning sucks-- whatever you do, don't stop trying.
A Prologue
I’m drowning. Gagging on water, my lungs scream for air, and heat explodes in my chest. Every inch of me yearns for the surface, that I could just breathe.
It must have been at least a minute. A whole 60 seconds of struggling and trying so hard not to inhale. 60 seconds has never felt like a long time, but now, being submerged, is an eternity. The same substance that makes up like, what, 70% of my body, ironically, is killing me.
The water feels cold and smooth, but not like when you jump into a pool for the first time on a hot day- like an icy blanket, heavy, weighing against me, pinning me down, and pressing me further into the blue abyss.
I’ve never thought about it before. How air and life are so synonymous. We pay an awful lot of attention to the heart- and understandably so, I’m not trying to steal the heart’s thunder I guess- but people should really pay more attention to air.
If I survive this I’m going to petition or something. I think gym classes should make kids practice. As early as kindergarten, we should be learning how to hold our breath, how to save our precious air- how to not let life slip away quite as easily as exhaling.
Personally, I feel like I should have been an Olympian or something. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for the duration of a marathon.
My muscles are stiff, and groaning with pain and a lack of oxygen. My head is spinning- floating away somewhere. It’s a surprisingly nice release from the weight of the water and my current situation.
My body aches for life. I can feel myself dying, and it’s terrifying. Whoever started that rumor about drowning being a peaceful way to go was full of crap. I’m still restrained. I can’t get my arms and legs free and the world is fading. I say to myself that this is probably where I die, and it’s weird to me how normal it sounds.
Then I realize it’s not. One more time, I try. With all of the strength left in me, I try to get free. Pushing, pulling, with everything,
I dream of air.
