I’ve been thinking a lot about those videos of swimming instructors dropping babies in the pool and snapping at them until they float to the surface. Imagine the aggravating assault of being submerged in water, sounds around you muffled and drowned out by the blood pumping in your ears. And a spazzing adult human like a caricature above. I imagine it’s something similar to a morning alarm.

But I imagine the sound of the water in your ears feels oddly comforting and quiet.

See, I often feel bad for enjoying living alone. I think people feel offended when I say I like having a lot of alone time. I enjoy my people, I do. They bring me joy and love and laughter, but there’s something to living in silence that silent monks were catching on to.

It’s not like it’s completely silent. There’s the music I play, the noise of the wind or the street cleaning truck outside. There’s the sound of me screaming profanities when I accidentally drop a knife or stub my toe. Or the “excuse me” I say out loud to absolutely no one after I burp. Plenty of sound present.

But I get to take time to think when I’m alone. I see the people snapping at me from above, cheering as I make my way toward the surface. I just wish I could tell them I like it a little better under water, and that I’ll swim up when I’m ready.

I think some people believe that our relationship with ourselves doesn’t require focused attention. There are so many ways to survive in this world, and I fear most of us aren’t. Or maybe we’re surviving in the quickest most convenient ways we know. Some of us are forced to, and some of us don’t realize there are other ways.

The question “where do you see yourself in five years” is a jump scare to most of my friends and myself. I don’t fucking know, man. I can’t see myself in a career or a different place because I don’t yet know what I’m capable of.

I like the time and the space I have alone. Nobody snapping at me to figure it out. I want to learn to swim a way that works for me.