I was still trying to forget what went wrong the other day, but those memories were stuck like an evostic gum, like it never leaving. I focused myself on other things like painting and anticipating for the holiday to come to an end. But when I couldn't take it anymore, I told my uncle I wanted to go back home.
You know, my parents were so rich, but they sometimes spare time to talk, especially my mum. My dad was not always around; you know business takes you everywhere. I told my uncle I missed home, but he didn't know the real reason I was going back, so I left the next day. I came as a blooming flower but left as a thorn instead.
I got back home as a changed person. No one was home when I got back except the house staff. My stuff was taken to my room, and after that, I just got in my swimming trunks and sat by the pool. Even though I couldn't swim, I would just dip myself in and come out as if I was trying to baptize myself. I felt kinda relaxed a little bit.
As I settled by the pool, the sun warmed my skin, and for a moment, I let the soothing sound of water wash over me. The memories of the past few days faded slightly, replaced by the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the pool's edge. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to find solace in the familiar surroundings of my home.
But the peace was fleeting. The image of that day haunted me, replaying in my mind like a broken record. I tried to push it away, but it lingered, a ghost I couldn't escape. I dipped my toes into the water, feeling the coolness seep into my skin. It was refreshing, yet it reminded me of my inability to swim—a skill I had always wished to master.
As I sat there, I thought about my parents. They were always busy, consumed by their work and the demands of their affluent lifestyle. I longed for their attention, for a conversation that went beyond the surface. My mum often tried, but it felt forced, as if we were both aware of the walls that stood between us. My dad, on the other hand, seemed like a distant memory, a figure who was there but never truly present.
The sound of laughter interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I turned to see some of the house staff setting up for a small gathering. They were cheerful, chatting amongst themselves, and for a brief moment, I felt a pang of jealousy. They seemed so carefree, enjoying life in ways I felt I had forgotten.
I decided to join them, hoping to distract myself from my own turmoil. "Hey! Need any help?" I called out, forcing a smile onto my face. They welcomed me with open arms, grateful for the company. We laughed and shared stories, and for a while, I felt lighter, as if the burdens I carried had been lifted, even if just momentarily.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, I found myself reflecting on my journey. I was not the same person who had arrived at my uncle's house. I had changed, perhaps in ways I didn't fully understand yet. The experiences I had endured had shaped me, leaving scars that would take time to heal.
After the gathering, I returned to the edge of the pool, watching the last rays of sunlight dance on the surface of the water. I realized that while I couldn't change what had happened, I could choose how to move forward. I was determined to reclaim my life, to find strength in vulnerability, and to confront the shadows of my past.
With a newfound resolve, I stood up and walked to the edge of the pool. I took a deep breath and decided it was time to face my fears. I would learn to swim, not just to conquer the water, but to symbolize my journey toward healing.
As night fell, I felt a sense of urgency to start anew. The stars began to twinkle in the vast sky, and I remembered the stories my mum used to tell me about constellations and how they could guide lost souls home. I wanted to be one of those stars—shining brightly, guiding myself back to the person I used to be, yet infinitely stronger.
The next day, I mustered the courage to approach my mum. I found her in the kitchen, preparing dinner, her hands deftly chopping vegetables. "Mum?" I said hesitantly, my heart racing. "Can we talk for a minute?"
She looked up, her expression softening. "Of course, sweetheart. What's on your mind?"
Taking a deep breath, I shared my desire to learn how to swim. "I think it would help me—I want to face my fears," I explained. I could see the surprise in her eyes, quickly replaced by a warm smile of encouragement.
"It's never too late to learn something new," she said, her voice filled with genuine support. "I'll help you find an instructor. I'm proud of you for wanting to take this step."
Soon after, I found myself at the local pool, the water glistening under the midday sun. My instructor was patient, guiding me through the basics. With each lesson, I felt a mixture of fear and exhilaration. The water, once a source of dread, began to transform into a realm of possibility.
As I floated on my back one afternoon, staring up at the sky, I felt a sense of freedom. I was no longer the thorn I had felt like when I left my uncle's house. I was blossoming into something new, embracing the journey ahead.