Tiles

It's about disapearing in thought, water, tiles, thoughts forming and staying.

Tiles on the bottom of the swimming pool, they are straight lines, but they seem to be waving. The motions capture me. My eyes following their dance. Waving, bending.

Someone jumps in and the lines are close to breaking, lines melt together, some lines split in two. Then the water calms and the tiles’ bending are back. I am lost in the water, compelled. Thoughts land in my head like drops of water slowly falling.

I can brush them away, dry them of, or I can let them stay. If I let them stay, they will eventually form a lake at the bottom of my thoughts, drip, drip, drip. Drops become creeks, creeks become streams, streams become rivers, rivers form lakes.

My head can’t hold oceans. I have to let the lakes out. Let the water out of my head, like water in a drain. Swirling away, down. My head is never empty, sometimes only puddles remains. Sometimes the drops stop falling, but never empty, never dry. I am lost in water, lost in thought.

Spacing out, spacing in again. My toes are wet and I look up, I look at the swimmers floating by, some fast, some slow. We are all in our own bubbles and if we are lucky we can be invited in, but only for a short time. Never long enough for drops to become lakes. Spacing in, spacing out again.

My eyes seek back to the tiles, their motion calming, safe, reassuring. But hypnotizing as well, trying to steal me away from this world.

Author's Note

This is on of my first stories plz review

Reviews

I was carried aw in imaginary waves as I read, absorbed and felt the emotions and thoughts.. I enjoyed this small break... Very nice job indeed!