When I was younger, I was afraid of heights.
I used to dive. The one-meter board was fine but the three-meter board was not. A ladder to the top, but that don't mean nothing when you can't get yourself to climb it, does it? So I agonized and agonize, this simple climb towering before me but all I felt was fear (hey, now all I feel is boredom).
Well, one day I climbed it. Put one hand above the other. When I reached up to the top I was shaking, but I'm not a bother, so I did what was asked of me and walked out to the edge. My heart was pounding, isn't it astounding how my breath catches?
Water laid below me. My coach said that it would catch me if I fall, but I'm afraid it'll just as easily end me. They say that it's waiting for you patiently with open arms, but I know it's up to me to make sure I don't fall wrong and bring me harm.
So I jumped, the landing hurt me. Did it again until 12:30 rolled around and I was free to go back home. Feel like I drowned, although I didn't. Water does that to you, makes you feel afraid. Just because the water saved me doesn't mean tomorrow's safe.
Tomorrow kept coming and I kept climbing that ladder. I don't know why I did it, don't know if it was glory I was after. Or maybe it's because when I did well, people were clapping. Never mind that if I smacked it all would bring me laughter.
So I fled. Hid among strangers where no one knew my name. Safe from all the three meter boards, won't climb those today. I was nothing spectacular when I dove, I was just okay. Barely made it on the varsity team, worst of my teammates.
I quit dive after that season, and I guess it was expected. I mean I had a good reason, there was this new school and I got accepted. They didn't have a team and I didn't mind, I'd learned my lesson. Stay away from heights because the fall is something you can lessen!
And I was free. Without the highs all I had were lows, and friends to pull me out of that. I had a therapist who helped a lot. I met with her every two weeks. From therapy I actually graduated. Things were going good, going great. I'm glad it's great.
But then I found a thing called fandoms. I joined one and it was bad, um. But then I joined another and for once it was not a sad one! There were about 400 people with me, I made analyses and they listened, but oh no it blew up one time and then we had some real fun.
I was lower than I've ever been but somehow I was still up high. The pool was so far away but somehow I still had to dive. I don't remember how I climbed, only that I've been on the edge for a while now, tension building up, I gotta fly now.
So I did. I braced myself and jumped up to the clouds. The rest of the world loomed below me but I didn't care how I was getting down. All I felt was height and wind and weightless and applause. Then gravity took over me and I plummeted to the crowd.
But they parted. I fell. They partied. I fell. Yeah, they started a hell. Sent it to me. Oh well.
I was on the bottom of the pool floor right on the tile, the waves crashed down around me like the rest of the world was crying. Not from sadness, no, they just laughed so hard that bile jumped into their throat and burned their eyes and made them start to cry, oh no.
The pressure was on me thick, but still I had to smile. Knives dug into my back but still I had to smile. The board loomed above me like it did when I was diving, but still I had to smile, I still had to smile.
I cried so hard that I forgot how to feel. I smiled so much that now I can't tell what's real. They say that phobias are irrational, used to believe them. But now I see, that's why I feared that intoxicating demon.
