Was I Ever Here? ; jenlisa ff G!P

13

Jennie Pov

"Lisa."

I lay in bed, my lips wrapping around the vowels as I sound out her name. The air of the ceiling fan pushing the same vowels into the dark corners of my room.

Her name is heavy on my tongue, as if I've already spent hundreds of years speaking her name. Carved into my memory like the deep curves of an engraved tombstone.

"Ugh." I shake my head like an etch-a-sketch. "I need to get out of here," I mumble aloud.

I refuse to think about her for another second. Her behavior makes no sense. As little sense as my reaction to her.

I leave the house in a huff and jog down the stairs of my apartment building two at the time, eager to clear my head.

The sun's barely peeking out from the horizon, the city still dormant so early in the morning. I haven't really gone to bed yet. Just laid there wondering what the fuck is happening to me.

My body feels electric, the anxiety ramped up so high, I can feel it like a subtle tremor rattling my bones. My mind has been fried in the process and I can barely focus. Well, I can only focus on one thing it seems. Her name is like an entity of its own, determined to block out everything else like an eclipse blocking out the sun.

It takes me about fifteen minutes to end up at the beach. I undress slowly, grateful for having at least the presence of mind to have popped on a bathing suit before leaving the house. I dig my toes in the sand, trying to take as deep a breath as I can but my chest is so tight I can barely suck in any air. The sun glimmers atop the waves and I try to bask in the simple pleasure of the peace I feel when near the water.

The ocean's cold embrace sends shivers down my spine as I slowly wade in, my skin tingling with goosebumps. I let loose a heavy breath, trying to contain my reaction to the chill but continue my way in nonetheless. I need this.

When I get deep enough, I bite the bullet and dive in head first. I swim underwater until my lungs grow tight, the water grounding me back into my body—my mind.

Finally, my nerves settle as I swim with no goal or purpose. I pop back up with a gasp, pleased and smiling, out of breath.

Fuck I love the water.

A place that never disappoints, a place I can always count on. They say the earth vibrates at the same frequency as the human body. It calibrates us. Centers us. But with the industrial revolution and the mass migration to cities we've become disconnected. Untethered. Nature being the only thing able to provide us with that frequency.

I like to think that when I sink under the waves I'm actually chasing that subconscious need to recalibrate. A deep instinctual urge for a mother's embrace. Just long enough so I can feel alive. Or feel something at least.

But these moments are fleeting. The groundedness I chase evaporates as soon as the water dries off my skin.

But hey, I take what I can get and try not to think about it that much. Try not to focus on where this feeling comes from. Or thisun-feeling more like. This...disengagement. I am a collection of moments. Moments, I wish I could forget.

So here I am, floating on my back doing silly little breathing exercises I once saw on YouTube, thinking it might help fix the monumental gaping hole I have lodged in my chest. But fuck, at least I'm here. At least I'm alive, when the thought of death is at times more soothing than fearsome. Do I really have a death wish? Or am I just mentally exhausted?

I don't allow myself the chance to mull it over.

I dunk my head under the water one last time and sidestroke back to shore. The sun is warmer now. The awakened city rumbling in the distance.