writing

Blogmas Day 20: Drowning

I scanned the crowd for a familiar face and found thousands, each belonging to him, and to her, and to you, and to me, yet none of them felt like a home. That’s what I was looking for, it’s what I craved. Not my home, not your home, just a home. Feeling most alone in a crowded room was natural. I was a number in thousands, each pushing and shoving to get to where they were going.

Which was where exactly? Another time, and another place when and where we would be doing the same old thing. Keep pushing. Keep shoving. Keep moving forward, until forward is where you need to get away from. I went along in the sea of the crowd and, even though I looked like I was swimming, I was drowning, gasping for air at the threat of my life. I never learned how to swim well. No one ever taught me. Then I was thrown out into the waves with the promise of lessons and a life jacket, none of which ever came, and was expected to learn as I went. From the outside, I looked like I was. I looked like I was catching on and getting the hang of it, but all I really was learning was how to put on a mask. Pretending I was fine, while, in my head, the bottom of the ocean didn’t look so daunting to me anymore.

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