The swimmer

I slowly take my hands off my eyes, as I feel the urge to see. To really see, see everything, finally see. I realize my glaze is mirrored in the worst bathroom and the best window (in the city by night). My spirit is terrified and ready at the same time – the urge to see. It's a drastic evolution. It's the change I wouldn't have dreamt of a year ago. I knock down all the defences I had put against myself. The war between me and me is over, so I can start a new one. But this time I'll fight by my side, against you. I no longer am my own enemy. I never was the monster – you were. And you still are. I know you can hear me coming. I let the bathroom's faucet leak so you can hear it dripping. One second, one drop, one bead on your forehead.

Then I'll whisper: "Feel the fear I felt. Here is the skin you ripped off – wear it."

In the sticky waters of the darkest bathroom, I'll say: "I will avenge myself.". And you'll hear my voice. Closer and closer, as the final battle approaches.

I know the night before, I'll wonder if it wasn't all my imagination. I can't help it but ask myself the same question again and again. It's easier to pretend I don't know the answer. (It's easier to pretend I have the power and you don't. Easier to pretend you are my marionette and I am not your puppet.) When I doubt it sinks me into abyss so deep I can't even hope of reaching the light again. It feels like I will always belong to the ocean. Like I will remain amongst the dying seaweeds and the rotten fishes. After all, I've always been in symbiosis with the pain you gave me – the pain I left myself with. I don't know how to live without it. And now I'm drowning. Because you were the first interloper. And now I'm drowning. Some people would be strong enough to get themselves away from this reality - but I'm not wired that way. And now I'm drowning. It feels like a unique situation, in the worst and most abyssal way.  And now I'm drowning. Out of breath, out of strength, out of hope. In the chaos of my doubts, in the chaos of my pain, in the chaos of my memory, I'm drowning.

I sing a lullaby to myself. Against my will, I am cloaked from the surface by a second skin, an earthenware skin, that is so heavy it sinks me to the bottom of the ocean - my voice will smash it to smithereens. I grow flowers in my heart, and they fill the hole you dig into me. Their perfume give me all the courage I need. I have the strength to take off the last of my porcelain scales, one by one. The pain is no longer addictive, nor is the doubt. I start to swim back to the dry land. I know it will be a long trip. I am ready. The idea of vengeance will guide me. I'll just picture your flesh riddled with maggots. Your open mouth, overgrown by anemones. Your blue hands, half-devoured by sharks. I won't let your body repose. You didn't.

I know that when I come out of the abyss, the soft light will feel like a supernova's halo to my eyes. But I'll just blink, and continue. I've been static, frozen, paralyzed, my whole life. It's over. I no longer blame myself – I blame you. When I hit the surface, be scared. I'm coming for you.

I am leaving the abyss, leaving the wold blue sand, leaving the earthenware soil. I'll find a more fertile land to plant my roots, grow and blossom. It doesn't matter where it is: with a flowery name, wherever I go, I bring spring.