Drowning

I am actually quite fond of drowning. It sounds morbid, I know. However, it is not because I look to end my life, cry out for attention, or gain satisfaction from self punishment. The truth is, its very scary. There's so much going on in your body that most people can't make sense of what is going on, and they interpret lack of air as pain and the rush of senses and emotion as terror. Maybe their supposed to. Here's where people are wrong though.

People, myself included, imagine drowning to be like suffocation. Someone puts a sock in your mouth, tape over your face, and a pillow around your head and you can't breathe. You're trying every escape route physically possible, while struggling to alleviate your stressed, feeble lungs. You throw your arms out in front of you, as if to grab some air you could throw down your peppered throat. You convulse. Gaze wild, you go insane. Sounds awful right? Well, it's not like drowning.

First time I drowned, I was ten years old. I had been playing with my younger siblings near a river. My parents were close by, keeping watch making sure none of us fell in. Even still, the river was more like a stream, it didn't seem very deep or fast, and probably didn't put us in too much danger. I remember grabbing a bunch of rocks and we were seeing who could throw farthest. It was my game I proposed, and I obviously won considering I'm the oldest. Then, we just started throwing rocks in the water. I remember my sister squealing "Look! I think I hit a fishie!" And so I stopped and stared into the water until the ripples had cleared, and a reflection of myself had formed. I waved hi to myself and jumped. The reflection kindly waved back, but looking deeper was a very large fish. It floated to the surface. It seemed dead. Then, one viscious jerk sent it underwater. It vanished as quickly as the ripples obstructed my perfect reflection.

I bent down to look for my curious friend. Did I slip and fall? Did someone push me in? Maybe. However, how I recall, I grew so intrigued of the underwater world. I turned back to look at my parents, and my brother and sister, and casually hopped into the water. What was I expecting to find? I don't really know, but my jump was less successful than I anticipated. Instead of floating around in a playhouse filled with friendly fish, I hit the bottom of the river quickly with my feet. Before I could struggle to the surface, a strong current propelled my downstream, deeper into the water. While I was tumbled around I bumped my head on a sharp rock, and got my legs cut up kinda bad. I wasn't necessarily frightened yet, just very confused, and wondering when this part would stop.

After half a minute or so, I was thrust into a bank or something. Just a deep pool of quiet water. I'm not sure why, but something was telling me not to struggle. It said the water had fought with me so hard, and I needed to enjoy my time under there for a little bit. I thought this to be wrong, and when I tried to fight to the surface, I realized my foot was caught in a tree root or something. My lungs were pretty bummed. I really needed air. It felt like someone was pinching my chest, and I couldn't loosen their grip on me. So I said fine. I breathed deeply into the water.

At this point you're expecting me to say I discovered I could breathe underwater, and it was crazy and awesome and my whole life changed for the better. No. The muted silence surrounding me, the dark quiet of the pooled water, fell into me. It was like someone made everything about my insides, cold, dark, and silent. My eyes widened, and my head began to spin, and somehow each little bubble underwater lit up with intense light, like they were turning into stars, or lighting on fire, or something. I began breathing faster and faster, to no aleviation or furthered discomfort.

That's when the adrenaline kicked in and my insides grew numb. It was as if someone gave me a big glass of cold water to drink and sit in. Something weird happened. I could smell the water. It smelled like fish, and rocks, and trees, and mud. I could feel each hair on my body sway in unison with the gentle breezes of water. I could see hundreds of fish, and my vision was so sharp, I could see through the muddied lense of the water. I could see outside too. The sun wasn't shining, it was getting ready to rain out there. Bugs were landing on the surface of the water, animals came by to get a drink, and I was there to observe it all. And my head was racing so fast, I can't even articulate all the thoughts that rushed through my brain. I felt my heart beat so loud that i was sure it pulsed ripples into the water.

I wanted to stay there forever. I really couldn't explain enough how it felt. Then it started to feel wrong. Then I felt insurmountable pain clawing in and out of my chest. My vision started to blacken, and I groped at the acid water. Unknowingly yanking at my tangled foot, I was visciously struggling. It was as if someone had turned on another switch, where all my senses were equally hightened as my vision diminished. Somehow, I reached the surface, and found the side of the bank to hold onto. I passed out there.

Someone pulled me out. I literally don't remember who, how, or when. All I remembered was waking up in the hospital on a stiff, sterile bed. But I did remember drowning, and not being on the threshold of death, not wishing I lived my life different, not wanting to say goodbye, but knowing, somehow, it would happen again.