As a kid running into the ocean served as a fun past time.

On vacation’s I would run in the seas unaware of the dangers that awaited. And every time hands pulled me up and out of the liquid that had expanded to the edges of the world.

Little did I know that those waters that threatened me would soon become a much bigger problem.

A wave that I could not touch.

Waters that reached me on land in my day to day life.

Waters where the people around me were creatures of the sea.

Little did I know that the waters I jumped into, would pull me out to a point of no return.

Swimming above water tires everyone out, and no one can swim forever. What made me think I could?

Pushing to get back to dry land with the danger of being pulled under. Fighting against the current pushing me further out of my comfort zone.

Not crying out, thinking that no one would hear me as my legs wore out. Not making myself as noticeable as possible, for the fear that what lies in the sea, would hurt me.

Until eventually those waters pull me under the sea. The pressure of everyday life, of swimming with no rest, no ledge to hang on to gets to me.

Because the expectations of others, the standards the world sets for us, the unrealities of day to day life on blown up social networks makes everyone upload a face full of smiles.

Drowning as I go down, deeper into the dark. Holding my breath to save every, last, air bubble.

Finally screaming in desperation as those waters close in on me.

Too many standards I’m upholding.

Too many fears that if I don’t meet those standards I’ll be too ashamed to maintain eye contact.

Afraid that if I’m not perfect 24/7, no one will like me.

Hoping. Hoping that someone will notice. I finally stop kicking and look up to see the light coming through the holes in the water, trying to find some peace in the darkness.

Until suddenly I see hands.

And not just any hands.

These are the hands that pulled me up and out of the water as a kid and they come down again, this time stronger then when I was little.

Those hands push through the waters, fighting to get to me.

To look up at the help coming to me.

To still fight back.

And more hands come, small and dainty ones, big strong ones, ones that are wrinkled, and ones that show the care they have for me.

Those hands pull me out of the water, and as I gasp for air I release all the fear.

All the pressure that was being pushed down on me through my day to day life.

All of the standards that were being upheld.

Those hands hold me up out of the water allowing me to breath. No longer am I having to swim on my own.

Because as soon as I’m out of the water I’m brought to a boat. A life raft that keeps all the creatures away from me. None of the fear infested waters can touch me, and as I float above it all  I see what I had missed.

Those hands were always there, slightly nudging me in the right direction. Waving at me from across the room. Braiding my hair as I got ready for my first day of elementary school. And while I was drowning they were in the life raft searching. Searching for the person that had fallen into the water.

The person who had waved back at them and held their hand when in a crowded place. The person who was with them before I had fallen in.

Suddenly above the water nothing can touch me. I’m stronger than I was, because I know how hard those waters can be when you’re being tossed and turned in them. where the light can touch me, and I feel the warmth sink into my bones I know I’ll get through it if I fall back in.

I know now that the creatures in that water are just other people also struggling to get above the waters. People who don’t realize that they also have hands plunging into the water looking for them.

Because all those people thought like I did.

I must swim alone.

No one can hear me, and I better not make myself noticeable, or the creatures will laugh and hate. They will snap and bite, and tear at me until I’m nothing but a shell of who I was.

And when those hands find them they also gasp for breath. Because the little insignificant things in this world were bearing down on them, pressing on their lungs till the air was knocked out of them.

The creatures that had scared me so bad seem small now, so insignificant compared to my happiness and security on the boat. I can handle those waters now that I have help.

There’s no need to uphold all of the expectations the world has for me.

It’s okay to be different.

All those hands reaching out into the water, and at least one of them is for you. You no longer have to think that your alone. That the waters your swimming is only beating down on you.

No longer do you have to stay above the water using every ounce of energy in your body, until you go limp from the exhaustion.

Because we are there for you. People are here for you, and all you have to do is look up.

Because the hope that you’ve been clinging onto, the hope that if your different from others everything will be okay!...

Becomes a reality.