Move toward the muted, echoing voice at the surface, toward the shadow blocking the sun. Never mind he was the one who stepped on your glasses. The one you’d set your sights on. Like your eyes, this idea was short-sighted. Why were you crushing on your neighbor? He was off to college in the fall, and you had four more years of high school. Or was it the idea of leaving for college you crushed on? Your mother kept telling you her life would have been better without you. How she could have painted the ocean in oil colors on canvas, planted and harvested strawberries, performed Barefoot in the Park onstage.

Dive deeper into the pool. Feel the spidery awakening. This is how you learn the rapid, shallow breathing of survival. A choice is a fork in the road you cannot return to. You used to believe pushing your way through the muck was the best course of action. You moved South during the oil boom. Met someone, fell in love. After the abortion, you left him. Too young. Too poor. Wrong person.

Take the throwline when it’s tossed for you. Go back to college. Make this quarter-life choice to pull yourself out of the work-by-the-hour grind. Test your mettle. Learn how to live with no income at the mercy of your family scraping their bottom-of-the-barrel. Begin a long-distance relationship with a man who lives with another woman. Convince yourself he will leave her. Graduate. Move back to Texas. Marry him. You said you’d be married by thirty. Look, you did it; you touched the wall on this goal. Arm fully extended. Eyes down.

Hold your breath. Let the chlorine continue to tingle your nose. Begin the corporate climb. Be the one who travels for work while your peers raise families. While gone, discover your husband created a company, incurring debt for which you are now responsible. Learn “gaslighting.” Leave him. Now, keep swimming. Figure out a way to finance graduate school at night and keep working days.

If someone is hogging your lane, let them. Move them in the direction you want to go. Swim in their current. Let them believe they are winning. Keep your head above the water. Pay off the debt. Don’t be disappointed when you learn your boss doesn’t give a fuck when you go above and beyond.

Stay in the water. Be consistent with your practice. Eventually, the trauma will leave your body. You will drain your tank of tears. Start over. Believe in love again. Write a list of non-negotiables.

Breathe. Now, find your true love. You’re both half-drowned but still conscious. Grab the life raft and float.