“Promise me you will not spend so much time treading water and trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget, truly forget, how much you have always loved to swim.”
― Tyler Knott Gregson
These words are so beautiful. I read them for the first time and I had an image in my mind of what they meant to me. I pictured myself reaching out towards my younger cousin, asking her to make me a promise. I see her treading water and trying her best to keep her head above the waves. I see that at any moment she could crack, break and fall into a million tiny pieces. She is composed of fragility and instability. Yet, she stands as if sculpted out of stone that could shatter with even the slightest provocation. She is a monument of strength: she lives carelessly in the womb of destruction. She maintains clarity as the anguish of insanity and unhappiness loom in her very home. She is teetering on the high wire; each step forward bringing her farther from the crumbling place she knew as a child and closer to the solid sureness of independence. I watch her tactfully proceed with life as if a master plan had been laid in front of her to study before she was thrown into the race. I see her swim, swiftly through the pool water as if the slick bathing suit and cap are made of the same fibers as her skin. I see her emerge from the water in victory; finally defeating the demons inside of her. She proves to herself that she is a champion, that the world can not catch her; not as long as she keeps on swimming.