Deep End

by Ali Hazelwood

that chaotic, overthinking feeling that makes the platform feel like a tightrope and turns your body into an unreliable narrator.

The ease of pre-negotiating a social interaction. Having, for once, specific instructions. The stable quiet in the never-ending chaos of my brain. The satisfaction of doing something right, of being told as much. Disconnecting from the rest of the world and going with the flow.

I’m usually overthinking something. Desperately trying to avoid screwing up and working myself up to a panic.”

Am I taking up too much space? Boring you? Disappointing you? Would you rather be somewhere else, with someone else?

“Overwhelmed by the burden of wondering whether I’m...

There is no right or wrong way to exist. Real life doesn’t come with an instruction manual.

“Not really. Lukas and I have history. We love each other. Honestly, even if we break up, I suspect that we’ll find each other in the future. We’re kind of meant to be.”

this thing I’ve been told people should really do if their plans include staying alive for longer than a couple of months. “Sleeping,” Coach calls it. I hear great things. Would love to try it someday.

I’m starving, but my walk to the athlete dining hall is slow, because I’m busy writing an email to one Dr. Olive Smith.

Here, I feel almost obscenely exposed. Something that could be sectioned and poked and stripped for parts.

Not to mention that of late, my body has accomplished very little. Being a good athlete, a good student, reaching for perfect—those were the building blocks of me. Now that I’m struggling with almost everything, do I still have a fully fleshed identity? Or am I just an assembly of meat pieces, to be sold separately on clearance?

“I was fine.” The words slip out reflexively, from the part of me that can’t bear to admit how many times in the past year I needed to lock myself inside bathroom stalls and just breathe.

It’s not that women can’t be noisy, but boys feel so unpredictable, with their deep voices and abrupt movements and boisterous attitudes.

It’s just the way I’m wired. It’s written in my neurons, how much I enjoy the strength behind his grip. His size. The ease with which he could overpower me. He could make me do things, and knowing that stokes a hollow ache in my abdomen.

“You’re not. You just keep your head down. Focus on what you can control, and cut the rest out as much as you can without letting your world collapse.

mean the way Lukas looks at me, like he can see the little crumpled-up piece of paper tucked in a corner of my head, the one where I wrote down my secrets. Like he could easily flatten it and read every last word.

I sip on my beer, trying to avoid creating fanfiction of people’s smallest facial expressions until I’m certain that they despise me.

If only googling whether someone hates me were a possibility.

I’m always on the sidelines, always detached from what’s happening around me.

Am I the only one who cries in the shower, and can never find enough air to properly breathe,

Then his lips curve, just because I am here, and my heart beats in my belly.

If being praised by some guy I barely know gets me going this fast, I must have internalized the same patriarchal shit that I despise outside of the bedroom.

Outside, very little stitches us together. Here, we couldn’t be more perfect for each other.

And Lukas Blomqvist, the fastest person to ever swim fifty meters, is panting against the curve of my throat like there isn’t enough air in the universe to fill him up.

The quiet. The grind, stopped. Knowing that for a brief moment, someone else has me. No decisions, no responsibilities.

“I like spending time with you.”

hate them, these men talking about me like I’m a malfunctioning waffle maker that should be harvested for parts and landfilled.

may be at my worst, but I can masquerade as someone who’s doing perfectly fucking fine.

In the following days I’m at once despondent and jittery. Messed up. All wrong, like I’ve lost all say in the person that I’m supposed to be. Entropy personified—just a tangled skein, unraveling, impossible to rescue.

Mysig. Swedish adjective. Cozy. Warm. Soothing. The quality of sharing a comfortable moment with a person whose company one enjoys.

I’m a mess. A failure. A ball of anxiety. All twisted. But also cozy. At least, one person in the universe seems to think so.

“Sometimes, I feel like my life is split in two. There was the first part, where I was in control, and was able to make myself do what needed to be done, and then…now.”

“Scarlett,” he says, in that tone that’s final, that makes me feel like he’s hearing me and he’s got me and he’s there. That tone that makes me go silent. “I learned what an inward dive is after the first time you mentioned them to me. And I know one when I see it.”

Like it’s fine that I mess up. Like it’s acceptable for me to be a constant work in progress.

“I’m afraid of the unpredictability of existing. I’m afraid of not being able to control the direction of my life. I’m afraid that no matter how much I plan, I won’t be able to avoid hurtful and sad things.

“Mostly, I’m afraid of attempting something and not being perfect at it.”

What if we moved closer? For just a second, what if we kissed? Would anyone see? Would anyone care?

Not perfect can still be good.

Confidence is showing up, and trying, and not giving up because deep in your heart you know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

‘the perfect amount.’ Not too much, not too little. The idea is that society is like a team, resources should be shared equally, and people should be humble.”

“People shouldn’t brag about their accomplishments, or think that they are special, which can make it hard for them to celebrate their successes.”

It has to be love. It’s expansive and all-consuming and full and joyous. Hungry. Thick. At once heavy and light. Everywhere and golden. It’s him and me and the myriad of little strings that tangle us together.

“I want to know this stuff.” “Why?” “Because it’s about you.”

“In the palm of your hand, Scarlett. From the very start.”

“Difficult to be angry at someone when their actions hurt them as much as they hurt me.”

He used to want to prove to himself that he could thrive, even without her. He has given up on that. Now he just wants her.

A minute later she’s asleep. The entire universe is here, in his arms.