I’ve always been afraid of swimming. Ever since I was a young child.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the water, I love to feel the waves slosh around my ankles and feel the smoothness of the sand as it gets sucked away from around me.

But that’s not swimming. Swimming is where you float, head under water, struggling for breath as your daddy holds you there. His muffled laughter echoing through the turquoise depths as he ignores your frantic struggles, and lungs burning-desperately in need of air.

Then, when you feel you can’t hold it anymore he’ll pull you up, let you grasp a few loud breaths, then plunge you in again. Ignoring your pleas to stop.

I’m afraid of swimming.

Guess I’ll always be.