The Pool

I've always been a vagrant. Mostly in my mind, not travelling as I'd like to, I separate myself from those I should be most close to. I like to look at them as I'd look at an ant farm, watching them procreate and interact, seeing how they do things. I've never really counted myself as one of them.

But I am one of them. Undeniably, I am just another person who feels at least just as strongly about anything as they do, about the same things they do. Instead of living in the pool though, I prefer to pace the edge, deciding when and where I dive in and getting out quickly after, lest I be swirled into the ebb and flow of human drama. Sometimes I think I'm kidding myself, or putting myself above everyone I love. Other times, I feel that by doing this, I'm below them--less courageous somehow, not able to risk my skin over something I believe in.

Yet the fact remains that I love them, deeply. Sometimes I want nothing else but to jump in the water with them, and stay there, losing myself in a big whirlpool along with everyone else. It's human nature to connect, to desire that connection that keeps friends around us as we age. As the years go by, the water gets warmer, and the more inviting it becomes.

I'd love to say it's because I've been hurt before, but everyone has. It's not because I've been hurt. I don't know why I prefer to dance around real commitment in relationships or friendships. I don't want people to think I'll be around forever, because I've always known I won't be.

My sister told me recently that she always knew I'd leave. That I wouldn't be me if I stayed here, that if I did, she'd know I wasn't happy. My mother told me something similar, but in a more worried tone. I guess I won't know how much I worry her until I have a child like myself--a wild girl who seems to never be satiated. I'd never wish it on anyone to raise a child like me. It's far easier to have a normal child who wants the things she's raised to want. Toys, boys and rings. Cushy comfort, monetary happiness. It's easy enough to gain that in this day and age. I wish I could jump in that pool, and I've definitely tried to before.

I'm just not happy there. It's unnaturally warm, and I have this feeling that it'll boil without me ever noticing, when I'm 35 or so. And when it starts to hurt, I won't know what's happening. I'll have forgotten what it's like to be uncomfortable, and I'll just die slowly, on my own neglected watch, forgetting everything I've sacrificed to get that comfort that I don't even actively enjoy.

It's a sad story, but it won't be mine. I'm not meant to be satiated or satisfied. I'm meant to starve and strive for everything I want, because that's what people like me have to do to be happy. I don't have a choice. I never did.

And still, I want to drag them all out of the pool with me, because I love them. Such is the heartbreak of life, because I'll never get them out of there. It's too comfortable. I can't blame them.