Friday, 26 February 2016

What Doesn't Kill You

I remember this one time at a lake up north, I must have been at least 5 because it was the summer and my brother was a baby. My mother sat my brother and I on a rock so that she could go for a swim. I remember the rock felt very slimy. Then I slipped under the water.  For what seemed like a long time, I was underwater. Then some stranger saved me and here I am. But now I feel like I need that saving hand again and the kindly stranger is nowhere to be found. My heart has been breaking every day for a couple of years now, and bullies have warned me against discussing it anywhere else. But maybe you, my blog readers, will provide the listening ear I need to keep me from drowning altogether. Something to think about. 

Monday, 15 February 2016