Beneath the Surface
I've been afraid for so long.

I can barely remember first looking at the surface, too deep to be fully grasped, to wide to be understood or analyzed.
I've been afraid of the cold, of the height, of everything different about it. After all, my life was alright the way it was, right?

And then, just a second ago, I made a decision.
I didn't decide to jump, no, I decided to start running and lift my feet off the ground and throw my entire body forwards, letting my forward momentum take control of me.
Of course that entailed the impact on the water surface, sure — but by the time this fact had reached the more conscious parts of my mind, I was already hanging in the air.

It is in that split second where gravity has yet to kick in and I don't even realize that I am falling that my mind goes blank and time grinds to a halt — until all of that is pushed away, cast away by the overwhelming feeling of ice cold water surrounding me.

Once this wave slowly fades away into the background of my consciousness, I can finally look around. I let my eyes wander and find, much to my surprise, what has to be the second most beautiful sight in the world — the wavy, ever changing line between the sky and the ocean that distorts and reflects everything around it while hundreds of thousands of tiny bubbles make their way towards it. Joining up and breaking apart, aimlessly twirling skywards, making their way into the unknown in perfect silence.

And while I'm down here, holding my breath and marveling at this wonderful dance of a thousand dancers, I come to realize that this is all I ever wished for.

All this time I spent wondering what lay beneath the surface — all this time trying to understand what cannot be understood, this world was waiting for me, just one jump away.