March 31, 2009 at 2:30 pm (Uncategorized)

it’s such a surpressed memory, and yet for some reason, it surfaced today.
it was the first really good day. the kind of day when you can tell summer’s on its way.
hannah, tessa, paige and i decided to go swimming.
this was a big deal, because it was the first swim sesh of the year. we didn’t go to zenchenko like everyone else. we went to the pier.
so there we were, 4 girls, sunbaked by the sun, at the edge of the pier. the three of them started arguing about who would jump in first.
i, the exchange student, rolled my eyes, and volunteered.
i wasn’t thinking when i made that jump. i never think.
the water was deeper than i thought it was, i couldn’t feel the bottom. it took so long for me to emerge, that i panicked.
i felt suffocated and in my terror, had a moment of clarity: ‘i’m going to die.’
i stopped flailing, and when my head finally broke the surface, i took the deepest breath of my life and clung to the wooden block, afraid that if i let go, i’d go through hell again.
the other three didn’t notice, and i never said anything.
my 30 seconds of terror was real to me, and me alone.

i rush through life. occasionally, i stumble, and slam into a brick wall. and that happened today.

it’s difficult for me to pinpoint the moment it all fell apart. all i know is that, it did.
i felt exactly like how i felt when i was trapped underwater, suffocated and terrified.
and i couldn’t verbalize this feeling, this fear. i’m not that girl, the one who is afraid of failing and of being a failure. or maybe i am. i am and i’m not. i don’t know. i don’t know.
i’m glad no one said anything, because i was so ridiculously close to tears.
i have too many fears, and i pretend i don’t, but the truth is i do. i do, and i can only admit so to very few people, because with others, the words don’t come and my damn pride kicks in.
he calls me, seeing through my monosyballic text. and he knows, he knows how i surpress this fear and that every once in a while, when it emerges, i’m left lost and scared. like a 5 year old. exactly like a 5 year old.

maybe we’re all just great pretenders. because i know i am. i pretend to not be afraid, the truth is i’m terrified.

i’m terrified of inadequancy. i’m terrified that i’m the walking definition of it. i’m terrified.


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