I didn’t know where I was going when I dove into that lake. The water wasn’t clear either, which didn’t help. Nevertheless I curved my back and arms and threw my body head first into the murky water. It seemed like the thing to do. I needed to leave where I was, because there wasn’t anything left for me there. When my body hit the water I felt the coolness wash over me. It was refreshing and scary to be one with this massive body of ambiguity. Still I pushed myself through it and then I saw you. You were struggling, arms flailing to stay afloat. Your face was beautiful. Your eyes met mine, and I knew what I had to do. I swam toward you. My hand reached toward you and you grabbed it. We floated together for a moment. I knew you weren’t a strong swimmer. Part of me was strong, I knew how to swim but only because I’d taught myself that staying still was dangerous. But you stood there frozen, holding my hand like it was a foreign object.

“Come with me.” I begged you.

You silently shook your head and pointed toward the shore, which was far. I squeezed your hand so you’d remember what it felt like, but ultimately I couldn’t stop you. You released my hand, and my body and then it was I who struggled to stay above the water of indecision.

“Goodbye.” I said in my mind as I watched you swim toward the other shore. I knew what was waiting for you there, but there was not point in telling you because you were already underwater.