To dive or not to dive

When I was a kid we used to go to a public swimming pool in the summer.

The pool was huge and so deep that we couldn´t reach the bottom.

This was because of the diving boards and platform that they had to dive out of.

The diving boards were pretty high but it was the platform that went the highest – it had three levels, the first of which was around 2 metres high.

My friends and I constantly jumped off the first level – strange thing is, no matter how often I jumped off it, I always got butterflies in my stomach before taking the leap.

The second level was higher, and I can honestly say that I didn´t jump off it too often. Most of the times that I did, I was normally dared – by friends who wouldn´t then jump after me.

Then there was the third level.

I only knew of two or three friends that jumped, it was high and it scared the living daylights out of me.

We kids had a golden rule back then – if you climb up, the only way down is into the pool. It was utmost humiliation to chicken out and go back by the stairs.

I only jumped once.

I didn´t want to go but I didn´t want to back out of a dare.

I climbed up slowly, I knew that on the second level I still had time to chicken out but I felt I had no choice – so I climbed to the next level.

The world seems different from up there – colder, windier and more silent.

I didn´t want to jump – but I knew I couldn´t turn back.

So I took a deep breath and braced myself.

Every second before I hit the water felt like an eternity… I hated every second of it.

Coming up was just as long and just when I thought I was about to run out of air, that´s when I came up.

I heard the cheering and the clapping of hands of my friends – I knew I was going to spend the rest of the day riding my victory wave but I swore to myself never to jump from the third level ever again.

That´s how I feel.

Like I’ve been pushed to the third level and that I have no choice but to jump.

This is not what I want, this was not in my plans but it´s like I’m left without a choice.

I know I can live with the humiliation of turning back but I know how miserable i´ll be admitting defeat and have the next twenty or thirty years being bullied by the person behind me.

He´ll say “you can´t jump, so you´re going to have to go back and stay back”

But I can jump – I don´t want to.

Neither of us do.

But it´s like standing there while it gets later and colder and soon we´re going to have to make a decision.

Either way I lose.