Drowning: A Reflection

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,
under the weight of all my life.
Time is a construct, they say.
And well, eighteen years can feel like an eternity.
You’re smart, they say.
Words and facts and figures are your domain,
tiny planets situated on the nerves of the World Tree.
The truth is far more bitter, more so, than the maror.
I’m not the smartest, or the fastest, or the strongest.
But I’m me, and for better or worse, it will always have to be enough.
I always feel like I’m living,
but don’t mistake that for always thriving,
because the party ends before the entryway,
solemnity reigns.
Because who needs contact when we need contact?
Connection, like passing along a well-read book.
Not I, I say. Not I, they say.
Safe to say it’s not technology keeping us from ourselves.
Humanity has always lived well on the banks of Denial,
but flooding always seems to come as a surprise.
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,
because living up to history is hard.
Granted, our history is summed up succinctly:
long periods of war briefly interposed by peace.
Peace is harder and more difficult to maintain than war,
like the old adage about creation and destruction.
I, who feels the six-pointed star and know a night of miracles,
have always believed that there is light, there is always light,
just as there will always be darkness,
for one cannot live without the other.
There is a land, I’ve heard, on the Rivers Jordan and Jericho,
from where my ancestors whence came.
War is there too-grand and fiery and righteous on all sides.
But war is never righteous, and we of the faith
all wonder what happened to us-us all descended from devoted Abraham.Perhaps there will always be war in the Promised Land, but I know that
I want to see the Weeping Wall, and shed my own tears of salt and iron,
and lessen the volume of water crushing me on some days.
I want to pray on the hallowed land,
and bathe in that sea which one can always float,
and never sink, never drown.
After my ancestors left that land at the hands
of the mighty Rome, he who built the Wall in his name,
there came many years.
There are any stories, but I do not yet possess
enough reading in which to tell them,
despite the Shakespeare in my mind telling me of love that rises in the east and she who is the
sun,
or grudge matches that feed the flames of my anger which always seem to end in shall we not
revenge?
Tales of Seas of Black and Red, of rivers and lakes next to cobblestone streets and lantern lit
alley ways.
It always comes back to the beaches of oceans, of rivers, of lakes, of water.
It covers much. It all comes back to!-
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,
but one day my soul will fly ahead of Fate.
Or rather, Fates, in variables of Three.
Norns of the North and Fates of the South.
I’ve always loved the stories of Ancient Greece.
Clotho, the Spinner,
who creates this thread in intervals of weakness and strength,
Lachesis, who determines my lot in life,
who has seen what I have done, and continues to whisper where I shall go.
Final Atropos, who waits for that finality, that snick!
I hope I shan’t hear that sound for a while left to come.
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,
all in a sea of red.
Words do have power, you know.
They run the world more than fiscality-is that even a word?-
but they set it on fire just as much.
People don’t like to use them as much as they’re used.It brings to mind memories of kindergarten, of classmates not wanting to share the magnets in
the sand box.
We’ve moved on to greater things than magnets though.
Is it not better, to stand as one together, and sacrifice our pride rather than our lives, than to hold
on to petty bargains, and to fall as dominoes.
I live in hope, in Hatikvah, in the spirit of Elpis trapped in Pandora’s Jar.
It’s actually called a pithos, did you know?
For we are people, a people, and blood runs red no matter the color of your skin, or what’s
between your legs, or to whom you call out to at the altar.
Margaret Mead once said “to never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens
can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
I believe her, for how else did we come together if we were not once apart?
Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning,
and even if I can’t hold back the waves,
the American flag is flying,
land of the free and home of the brave.
Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning
but if I can’t break the surface,
than I have to believe in my heart of hearts, in my mind of minds, in my soul of souls,
that it will be my children who will one day see the clear, blue sky.

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Together.

Hi people,
Yesterday, my friend Sarah texted me “what do you want to do when you're older?” I haven't
responded back yet. Chemical engineering, that’s what I want to do right? Is all this work really
worth it? Death seems easier, right? Who am I?
I started to doubt.
Currently we’re in a mental health crisis and whether you believe it or not people are passing
away by the second. Like many others, I've had many thoughts about death as well and it’s not
as simple as “just be happy” or “think of your family”. For me it was like drowning. I gasped for
air yet I felt silenced and engulfed by water not able to move nor talk without the pressure of the
water. Later I confided with an older friend, and learned how she was struggling similarly. I felt
seen, the pats on my back helped me burst into tears. I was fortunate enough to have someone
like that by my side. I can't imagine who I would be without that experience.
Time is the best medicine. A cliche term, but true. I’m begging you. To hold on and wait. Please
stay awhile and bite your lips. Nobody can stop time, everything must pass, so I beg of you to
stay strong. It may feel like forever, but think of this period of time to learn something.
Personally, finding more hobbies made death feel dumb to give up something like life so easily.
But at times death seems almost welcoming, however the laughs and connections of life are
alluring. We’re all different, and not everyone can be the “main character”, but nobody really is
one to you as much as you. So take your time and promise me that you will grab a pencil and
write your feelings and read them to yourself. After promise me that you will watch the rain fall,
or stare at the trees and think of questions and answers. Make yourself curious. Death will come
for everybody, there is no rush. Please don't rush time.
Today, Sarah typed “omg stem queens” with me responding “lolz yeah”. A question that needs
to be answered, is all this work of worth. There are too many what if’s and this time I’m sitting at
the beach watching the endless waves, but I'm not alone this time millions of people watch this
water with me questioning whether to take a small dip. Water makes you feel so alone, but
looking from the surface there’s thousands of other people trying to find the strength to tread.
Those that come out, come out as strong, but exhausted muscle people.
Tomorrow, I will love you. I love you. I can love you. I will love you. We can love you. Can you
love me? Use your words for good; they can create a lifeboat for some or a hungry shark
beneath their feet. Everyday make the choice to support your community for the smallest
actions that can change one’s life. Please hold on, please lend a hand because you might be
the only one.
I am a girl that holds the power to make the conscious choice everyday, to be persistent and
one hopes that you will too.
Let’s make some noise.
Sincerely, Seohee Lee

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Suffocating
Like the feeling you get when you are underwater, way below the point where you can reach the
surface to attempt to save yourself. It’s too late. Some time later, a kind hand reaches to you,
and you, with every last will to survive, grasp the hand and pulls you out. At last, you survived.
Now everything is alright. Everyone’s happy and nothing is wrong anymore. But it’s not. You turn
around and jump again. Why? It's suffocating, that’s why. You had thought that being
underwater was what caused this suffocation, but clearly it was just you. All you and only you.
This time, there is no kind hand reaching out to you. You are by yourself, all by yourself,
underwater, not even attempting to save yourself because there is no point. No point at all.
No matter how many times you try before, you fail. Yet you are aware that if you try a few more
times, you are bound to get it this time. That was something that I had to do growing up. Trying
each time, failing more, and trying more, till I was the winner. Winning. Every game has a winner
and a loser. But why was it that I was always the loser? And when you are in this game of
suffocation, you have immediately lost. How can someone win when there is no desire to? It is
impossible.
This suffocation led me to lock myself in the bathroom, with water droplets gushing out of my
eyes, overburdened with this emotion named unhappiness. But why? Why does everything look
the same but with a darker shade of blue? Is it because I have branded myself defeated? It is
too tiring. Too tiring to even try to be unhappy. Yet again, the suffocation begins.
However, it isn’t too late. No, it can’t be. The suffocation can be controlled, fortunately. Not with
the help of a kind hand, because the one helping you is yourself. So I took a step forward. A
giant leap even. In an attempt to save myself, this time I’m going to do it. No matter what. The
suffocation or anxiety, whichever, I’m going to battle it. Why? Because I didn’t live sixteen years
of my life giving it my all, to stop trying because of an overwhelming emotion, a fear that I have
kept locked inside, triggering my suffocation, my anxiety.
So I open my eyes once again, and this time, the color changes to a lighter shade of yellow with
hints of blue. Not everything is going to be perfect, but this time, I have me. Something I should
have had since the very beginning.