blog/enigma

Thursday, February 08, 2007

1:07 AM

I had an important lesson today.
I had a swimming lesson. Which is not really important, but I'll get to it later. Before the lesson, I was all bubbly and excited. It's kind of tragic actually, me only using the pool in Hwachong after a whole year. Come to think of it, I haven't been in water all 2006. In fact, I haven't been anywhere near a swimming pool (fine, the poolside restaurant. But you know what I mean.) for since primary school. And even in primary school, swimming was more of a once-every-random-number-of-months event. So it is quite understandable that I should be excited - swimming had always been fun for me. As in. Splashing fun, yes.
Which brings to the point that I can't swim. Yes, I know, pretty sad, but when you only get to go to the public pool, which is barely 1.2 metres deep at most, you don't need to learn how to swim. It's a simply 'thrash in one direction and eventually you'll get there' matter.
Anyway, when the teacher told us to swim across the Olympic-sized pool (is it really that huge? It seemed like a short distance to me...), I was confident that I can do it. After all, the pool is only that long, and though I had no formal training, it ought to be easy enough.
Right?
(Now I know you guys will immediately whine out 'Noooooo' because that's what readers do when they see something that is obviously wrong but the writer is so disillusioned by his own ability that he could not see the truth then. So if I wrote that I successfully completed the lap, then you people will be shocked and be interested to read more. It's called the reverse twist in the plot. English test is tomorrow, sorry.)
Unfortunately, I can't twist the truth here. Noooooooo.
Anyway,
When I got into the water, I had a weird feeling, like I should get out immediately. Run to safety to land. But the whistle blew, and I found myself, well, thrashing towards the target.
As the chlorine water splashed around me, rippling, attacking my face, a deeper-seated rooted fear rose in me. At first, I had no idea why I'm so afraid. So I just kept on at ripping out water, trying in vain to progress. Then images, memories, voices rushed to my mind, an overwhelming slew of experiences.
'I'm going to drown. I'm going to drown.'
'Hahahahah!' torturing laughter.
A boy dragging a 5-year-old me into the deep parts of the pool.
Me struggling to break free.
Me crying.
Me choking in the water.
Me grabbing on to anything besides the menacing water that just slipped out of my hands.
Me seeing the murderous boy's evil glint in his eye.
Then he carried me on his back, back to the side of the pool.
And followed me home.
And every time we went swimming, he would always tag along, and even though I tried my best to avoid him like the plague, running to the safety of land every time I see him in my region of the pool. He was a shark - that loved to play with its food. And although I cried and complained to my parents, my near-death experiences never bothered them. You see, this boy is too smart. He always saves me when I suffer up to the point so there's no mortal damage. In fact, no damage at all.
Or so I thought. No physical damage, anyway.
As I progressed through the pool, all these thoughts swam up to me. My feet began to remember the sensation of not touching the ground; the water around me became choppy and turbulent, as if a gigantic mouth trying to swallow me whole. I panicked. What if I drown? What if there was someone again, trying to drag me off to the middle of the pool and leaving me there? Then I'll die for sure.
The only way not to sink is to keep on going.
So even though my arms and legs burned like acid on skin, I kept on. I didn't care if I'm turning out last - I just want to get out of the pool, quick.
It's funny how people tend to forget the pain when it's gone. Out of sight, out of mind. But for scars like these, they are never gone. When you trigger an anchor, it will always be glad to resurface.
And that's the story of my phobia. Hydrophobia is a pretty pathetic phobia to develop, since it's nearly every aspect of my life.
But so it is. And the irony is, it's caused by this person very close to me. My brother.
It's not that I blame him, and I know you readers will think how evil he is. I'm not going to be a nice younger brother and say he's not. He is. Along with all the stories I can tell later. His other misadventures. But that's for another day.
I like to believe everyone has his faults. And even though his are numerous, most of the time he's still a fantastic brother. Fine, I also believe that if I told him about the swimming incident today, he'll laugh his head off, but still. He's my brother.
And I haven't even elaborated on what I've done to him these recent years as revenge. Like editing his personal nick in MSN to 'Hi there! I love porn, you know. Do you have any porn? If not I can circulate my self-photographed ones to you.' (He's so daft he doesn't notice all day, and all his friends would have seen that by then.)
But I'm scared. How can such a fear still exist?
Why is it not gone?
And how can Jiasheng show a moment of weakness? I'm not someone else, for goodness's sake. Jiasheng should never be subjected to this kind of ordeal.
I'm thinking, maybe it's precisely I've suffered so much in childhood that now I'm so cold and negative. I've built a wall around me before any spears can get through. Spears of friendship, spears of hatred alike.
It's really ironic. I always thought I liked my persona. But maybe being a silly junior who go round assaulting people's cheeks is much more fun.
I really don't know.

signed, jiasheng

19th Sept
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