treading water.

as i walked up the hill in the hot sun,

i convinced myself i was capable.

as i rounded the corner,

i peered at the tan colored, rusted building..

I walked in a room lined with lockers and showers,

i followed the hall as it winded around and spit me out.

i walked my chacos through the puddles of this large room,

and stared into the deep end.

could i really do this?

the last time i tried, i puked up strawberry poptarts.

this thing was huge, olympic size even.

lined with floating rows of gold and maroon disks.

8 lanes of hell,

from 4 feet to 20 in a matter of seconds.

i took my seat on the bleachers,

and signed form after form.

I still questioned my abilities,

and prayed hard for the strength.

the bleachers filled up

with different body types.

i hear a whistle and see a face.

and get the orders.

we all take our places,

in each of the lanes.

and as my head goes under the water,

i feel the pressure.

and i swim the laps, back and forth

and back and forth, i swim.

i tread until i cant hold my head up,

and my legs give out.

the water pours in over my head

and the fear rush in.

i get out and lose my legs, 

collapsed.

the test is over,

and i survived.

the purple tank top

so i am going to Costa Rica in January. 

and i am sitting here, questioning every second of it.

ok maybe i am just excited.

and i am running in a 5K in a month.

why do i feel older.

i am sitting here in my purple tank top.

worrying.

and drinking black coffee on ice.

i NEVER drank in black coffee.

i also never ate onions or mushrooms before this year.

i want a job 

an artsy one.

where i can take photos of people.

or paint while they watch me.

i want to not worry,

i want to just paint.

and not paint for a grade,

but paint with emotion.