Sunday, May 22, 2011

Surface.


I could feel the waves of emotion lapping at my feet again, trying to drag me away but I could not (would not) let them. But they kept on trying, using the smallest memory of how I had once been to try and pull me under, into their cold embrace.

Two letters from forever ago: ‘love forever, Mum xx’, and ‘You will not listen to your conscience anymore. Understood?’
Two books: How To Feel and How To Be Happy.
The guilt:
“Do you remember when we went on a bike ride, back in year six or something, and I was crying?”
“Yeah, you were like “I hate life” and I was like geez, you’re only in year six.”

Lying underneath the waves looking up at the sky, the water seemed to have an almost tangible skin to it, a silver layer that made me feel apart from the rest of the world. It was like I was part of a whole other world beneath the water.
To break the surface was a difficult thing, but it was necessary as we all need to breathe sometimes.

This is my entry to this lovely blog created by the lovely Sanchez.

1 comment:

Melee said...

Oh, this is wonderful! I love how the story was written, of course, for the picture... but that you used the ocean as a metaphysical thing also; a metaphor for emotion and memory.