Jumping into the lake was my idea.
I didn’t realize how big a lake can be in the dark. I wasn’t afraid of the cold–I’ve jumped into cold water before and I love the shock of it, the way it takes your breath away and leaves you feeling scrubbed clean and alive–I was petrified of the fact that there could be a thousand things we couldn’t see, like rusty pipes and broken bottles and not alligators because that would be impractical but something equally dangerous and snappy. We all agreed that we could back down if we wanted to, that we could put our shoes and coats back on and go home and no one would blame us.
This was such a bad idea and it was all mine. So I jumped.
I jumped because that’s what I want for 2018. I want to keep finding stuff I’m scared of, thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t do it, and then jumping anyways. I want to jump when its freezing cold and inconvenient. I want to jump when I can’t see the bottom. I want to jump when its reckless and stupid. I want to jump because I know how good it feels to be on the other side, with lungs and skin and pride burning, how good it feels to be alive.
Dear 2017








