Her
head was just above water. She could breathe, but it was the ugly, sputtering
kind of breath. She was grasping for air. It was right there. She was so
close…and then she was pulled under.
While
she was under, the outside world saw tears. They saw tears and short fuses and
frantic calls home to mom. She was trying so hard to excel, for she was a smart
and punctual girl, but it was never good enough.
The
demands were higher, the expectations were higher; the results were lower. What
was she doing wrong? How could she be constantly swimming but constantly
drowning with each stroke forward? Her body was strong—it was strong enough to
pull her towards the shore but she found that each time she tried to get
closer, the currant pulled her further and further away.
She
needed help, she’d scream, but all that came out was that ugly sputtering.
Every now and then, a wave would crash over her and she’d go under. She’d flail
her arms frantically; Her hair would get into her eyes and she’d lose sight of
the shore.
But each time, she decided that she
wouldn’t give up. She’d push her ocean-soaked hair out of her eyes and try to
refocus her tired body back on the shoreline. “Just keep going, keep swimming,
whatever it takes,” she’d tell herself.
Every now and then, someone would
throw her a life raft and she’d catch it. It’d take her a little ways before
the rope would snap…and then the entire process would start over again. She’d
gotten used to it.
“Just keep going, keep swimming,
whatever it takes,” she’d tell herself.
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