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The end of my worries
When will I stop fearing?
While death may be far
It is forever nearing
Where is he?
The one to hold my hand
Through my nightmares
Would he understand?
He will arrive
He will come to my door
And my worries and fears
Will plague me no more
I read over my poem, smiling at the last line. This is one of my best poems yet; it describes my hopes and wishes so perfectly. A life with somebody who understands my anxiety? Or better yet, a life without anxiety?
Reaching for my sketchbook, I imagine the dream boy from the poem, shading him in so that he seems to glow, and I feel like he is beckoning me, even from the page. He is telling me to go out into the world, and to conquer my fears.
Grabbing my green and blue swim trunks from my dresser drawer, I make my way to the bathroom. After changing, I coat myself with sunscreen and I comb my dark hair, scowling at the way my curls fall into my eyes. Adding gel won’t do any good; the lake water will just wash it away.
I enter the kitchen and grab an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. “Hey Mom.” I smile and take a bite. “How was your night?”
She smiles, taking a batch of cookies out of the oven. I look forward to devouring them later. “It was alright. The bar was really busy so your Dad and I decided to come home earlier. We didn’t wake you up?”
“Nope.” I finish my apple and throw the core in the compost. I’m about to leave when Mom calls out.
“Ethan! Don’t forget to take your meds, sweetheart.”
“Right!” I curse myself for forgetting to take my anxiety medication. Jogging back to my room, I dry-swallow the pill and grab my bag and a towel while I’m at it. “Thanks, Mom.” And then I’m out the door.
Strolling down the quiet, tree-lined street, I yawn. Despite falling back to sleep quickly last night, I’m tired as hell. I remember the nightmare and grimace at the memory; no breath, no life, no hope…..
It’s time for me to face my fear of natural water. I’ve only swam in swimming pools; I’ve never experienced lakes or rivers or seas. My parents told me that my fears are what are causing all of my nightmares, and that the sooner I realize that I won’t automatically drown in the outdoors, the better.
As I approach the beach, I begin to sweat. The sun beats down on me, relentless. My breathing quickens and I feel a full-on panic attack starting up.
Breathe. Its ok, Ethan. Remember, the anxiety doesn’t control you. You control the anxiety.
Reciting those words over and over again in my mind, I continue forward, my flips flops coated with sand, and my heart rate speeding up. I find a nice, shady place to lay my towel and bag; the beach only contains a handful of sunbathers and a few swimmers, along with a lifeguard.
There, Ethan. If you get in trouble, the lifeguard will save you
Not allowing myself to dwell on anything, I make my way to the water, flinching at the cold of the waves. I wade in to my knees and close my eyes, the water gently lapping up to my thighs, and then down below my kneecap, over and over and over again.
Gentle waves. I tell myself. A warm summer day, a cool, refreshing dip, and a lifeguard on top of that. You’re fine, Ethan
I force myself forward, moving into water up to my belly button. I am determined to face my fear. I must face my fear. It’s irrational, and it’s a borderline phobia that I have to control. So far, no fish or other sea creature has attacked me, so I don’t have to worry about that. I’m not dead or out of breath. I feel that I can do this. I just need to keep moving forward.
I think back to my old swimming lessons, remembering all the different swimming techniques that I learned. Leaning forward, I swim farther, my front crawl mercifully stronger than it ever has been before. I pause for breath and smile.
You’re doing great, Ethan. Just a little farther out, and then you can swim back. You can do this!
I swim out for a few more feet and then I am unexpectedly pulled under the water. It feels like a thin, brittle hand is grasping me with its slimy fingers.
My leg is caught in seaweed.
And I can’t get free.
I jerk my leg frantically, trying my hardest to yank it free from the disgusting plant. Just like in my dreams, my vision is darkening, and my lungs feel like they are going to explode.
I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. And I’m only sixteen-
My thoughts are cut short when I feel a pair of arms wrap around me.
An angel? I wonder. Death?
I am pulled out of the water and brought to the shore. I stare in awe at the boy who has saved me.
It’s the lifeguard.
He’s sure not death, but an angel…..I can see that.
His light brown hair is plastered to his forehead; his jaw is tense with nerves and perfectly angular; his lips are pressed into a thin, pink line. As we reach the shore, he lays me on the sand, looking me over for injuries.
“Are you having trouble breathing?” he asks, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. When I don’t answer right away, he whispers. “Breathe for me.”
“No, I’m ok.” I whisper, coughing. “Thank you for saving me. I-“
“Hey,” he smiles, his teeth heavenly white. “You can thank me later. Are you in pain at all? Do you think you might need medical attention?”
“No, I’m fine.” I nod, sitting up. “Thanks.” My heart is still pounding in fear, but I’m thankful that my breathing is mostly stable. I’ll feel better in a few minutes. I wasn’t under for too long.
“No problem.” He smooths out his bright red swimming trunks. While the colour is too bold for me, it suits him. “My name is Ty. In case you haven’t guessed, I’m the lifeguard.”
“I’m Ethan. My family owns a summer home, and we’re staying there for July and August.” I look into his deep, dark eyes, mesmerized by their depth. I worry for a moment that I’ve babbled too much, but I push the thought from my mind. I was just saved from death, after all. Babbling is the least of my worries. “Do you live here?”
“Always have.” Ty smiles, standing up and offering me a hand. “I can’t talk now; I have to return to my chair. Maybe we can talk later.” He dusts his hands off, rubbing them against each other. “See you later, Ethan.”
He turns before I can answer, heading back to his chair. I return to my towel and bag, lying in the sun for a few minutes before taking out my pencils and sketchbook in an attempt to calm myself further. Art always clears my mind, and this time is no exception.
I lose myself in sketches of flowers and sailboats, along with poems letting out my feelings about what just happened, and Ty’s impressive physique. I’m still a bit shaky, but before long, I’ve cleared my mind of my worries and have completely immersed myself in my work. I am so focused that I don’t see Ty approach me.
“Hey, Ethan! I didn’t expect you to stay after what happened.”
I jump. Blushing, I reply “I wasn’t ready to leave. It’s too nice out.” And leaving will just reinforce my fears.
“Very true. Anyways, I was just taking a break from my duties when I noticed you sitting alone over here. Do you have any friends on Wolfe Island?”
I shake my head. “No, not yet.”
“That really sucks. I’d like to invite you to a party I’m hosting later tonight. Maybe you can make some friends there; it’ll give you something to do.” He cocks his head to the side and the sun catches on some subtle blond highlights in his hair. “Interested?”
“Yeah definitely.” I reply, the thought of spending time around crowds of people both exciting and terrifying. But I’m desperate for friends, and this sounds like a great opportunity. After the stress of earlier, maybe this can help me unwind.
“Hold on a moment.” He jogs back to his chair, returning with a piece of paper, an address and phone number scribbled on it in blue ink. “Here’s the info. I really hope you can attend.”
His dark eyes sparkle as he puts the piece of crisp white paper in my hand, winking as he strides away.
Nobody has ever given me their number before.
I am definitely going to this party.
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