a tomato, squashed (pt. 3)

I peeled my goggles off, leaving suction marks around my eyes like an owl. I bent over and wheezed for air, choking on pleas for help. My parents were confused and oblivious, undeniably proud while the most critical part of myself told me I had done terribly. However, I truly had done terribly, and this moment would form a kernel of self-doubt that would nest in my brain forever. My career on the Tomatoes was short-lived due to the onset of spontaneous bouts of anxiety vomiting, but I found a music and cadence in swimming laps that made it briefly worth it. I found the same cadence again and again in dance, piano, art, even driving, and it made it all worth it despite that small, evil kernel of insecurity tucked away in my brain.