You grip tightly onto the start board, your heart is furiously pumping. Ready, get set, go. You cut deep into the water like ice. Underwater, fast kicks. You break through the surface. Gasping for air, you begin. Rapid strokes, short breaths. Soon you see the row of flags, you’re nearing the end. Adrenaline runs low as you push against the sponge board and you clock your time. You haul yourself up. You feel a smile creep in because it’s a personal best. I miss that adrenaline rush. I miss racing.
I want to get away from all this sadness that overwhelms me each passing day. Such an awfully brilliant recluse idea that wraps me around.
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Bahaha.
“I kept thinking how marvellous it would be if I could somehow tear my heart, which felt so heavy, out of my chest.” — Anton Chekhov (via sharpmachine)
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Submitted by b0h0-babe
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Kate Moss backstage at a Paris fashion presentation, 1991
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