Not Drowning

I stood on the cliff edge, knowing that no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t go back.  The only way was forward, off the cliff.  I hesitated, scared of what lay ahead and wishing I could return to the comfort and safety of the past.  Eventually I decided to leap figuring that I couldn’t fly if I didn’t.  I opened my eyes and jumped.  I didn’t fly; I didn’t soar.  I plummeted down into the murky water.  At least I didn’t hit the rocks, though I can feel the sting from where they scratched and cut me.

I cannot see a way out of the water.  Instead of flying, I am desperately paddling, trying to keep my head above water.  I am exhausted and want to give up, but giving up means drowning.  Every now and again I feel the plants beneath me, curling themselves round my legs to pull me under.  So far I have been able to kick them off, but I fear that I can’t keep them at bay forever.

I do not know how much longer I can keep myself afloat.  Each day is a struggle simply for survival and I can feel the water deepening beneath me.  There are only three options.  I can drown.  I can keep paddling until I am saved or run out of energy.  Or I can try and find a direction to swim in, but if I don’t reach land or a boat, I will drown quicker this way.  I know I should swim – that’s what everyone tells you to do.  And I want to swim.  But I don’t know how to navigate the waters, and I don’t want to waste my energy on going deeper out to sea. 

Yes, I am scared.  I believed I could fly but with every moment that hope is being corroded.  I am not worried about flying anymore, but I want more than to just survive.  And that is what I fear I’ll never manage as everything I am is being poured into not drowning.  And so I paddle, take a few strokes and paddle some more.  I do not know how much longer I can keep this up, but I will not drown without a fight.