i gave up on staying afloat but you were the one who drowned (a summer fling for the damaged thing)

a letter never sent. 9.9.25.

i didn't want to leave you treading water on your own. i guess it was already too late for that. you swam back to the shallow end, but i had already gotten out of the pool. that's not fair to you, is it?

but i wanted to stay in the shallow end. i wanted to get used to the water, wade through for a while. but you were eager, you'd already grown accustomed, and you just couldn't wait, could you? i told you i needed to take my time. i was still warm from the sun beating down on me.

i guess some blame could be placed on me. i liked swimming, it's fresh, it's fun, its different every time. and your eagerness must have rubbed off on me, because i let you pull me further in. but the water got too frigid and the further away the bottom got the more nervous i felt. treading water started to feel like trying to keep from getting pulled under. your pool was too much.

maybe i'm just not as good a swimmer as i thought i was. maybe i need the shallow end. maybe you're an olympic sized pool and i'm just some temporary setup in someone's backyard — you're meant for great things, i'm meant to be taken down at the slightest hint of rain.

i had to get out and dry off.