2. The Water
I had never been fond of water. My friends thought it was crazy since I lived near the sea. It was indeed beautiful. It was beautiful to open my bedroom window every morning and smell the cold, salty air. It was beautiful to see the blue sea every morning.
But the sea haunted me.
It haunted me in my sleep. It taunted me, mocked me and jeered at me. I'd wake up screaming - screaming because in my dreams the sea would drag me deeper and deeper. I would fall and fall down into a whirlpool of terror.
A whirlpool created from my overactive imagination. That's what my therapist said.
How could I tell my therapist that the sea was a monstrosity, waiting to swallow me whole? How could I tell my therapist that I was bullied for my phobia? How could I tell anyone when no one would listen?
My mind is whirling now. Whirling like the water around me. The girls that torment me for my phobia pushed me. They don't know that I can't swim. They don't know that the sea is dragging me down.
It is my dream all over again.
I am being hauled by the sea, deeper and deeper. In my dreams, I would fight against it, making my way to the surface.
Would I rise again to the surface alive?
My last thought is that I'm weightless.