Mar. 17

3/17/2026 9:30 Correspondence 180

Oh, how I wanted to do a long, fun, introspective dive and free write tonight. I still do. But you see, I just finished my last bit of homework for the day, and I just can't seem to find or muster the motivation. I know. Tragic.  Despite that tragedy, I will instead share a short story about my spring break and an unrelated poem. I hope you enjoy. 

Hand on my mask, hand on my belt, hand on my respirator. That was the instructions. No, I don’t have three hands, just two. I thought of this fact as I pressed the mask to my face and lost grip of my regulator as I fell back into the water. I hit the water, causing a tidal wave to spill over the aluminum platform, which sat bathed in early-morning sunlight in the middle of a cave. Was it a cave? I guess not. More of a big hole in the ground that opened up into a large spherical chamber. Huh. What would you call… Oh God, it's cold. Wow, that water's brisk. I was fully submerged now, bobbing like a potato in boiling water. Yet this water was far from hot. It was cold. And I felt it spilling in through the neckline of my suit, hugging my body with liquid coolant. They say Devil's Den stays at a constant 72 degrees year-round. That may be true. But they also say you lose body heat 3 times faster in water, and my body prefers to stay at 98 degrees. But I’m here now, in that dark, murky water. And what else do I have to do but face my fears and sink below? And so I do, losing myself as I bite hard on my respurater. I keep my eyes open as I watch the water overtake me. I try hard not to think of that bitter cold. I try hard not to think of all the crevices that create a lump in my stomach from the unknown and unknowable that spills out. I try hard not to think of the fact that I am sinking further and further into a territory that I do not believe in, my saviour being a tank strapped to my back. I try hard, but end up thinking of them all. What else is there to do, though? At depths, you have nothing but your own thoughts and the distinctive sound of pulling air from the tank. They don't tell you that in training. The mind-bending silence and otherworldly sounds that penetrate your mind at 40 feet. You find it out, though. Quick. And make peace with it. 

The temporal erosion of Me and I

There's nothing left in the future 

Or so I have seen 

Though I wonder if it was a memory 

Or just an old harmless dream

I gazed over my shoulder 

And saw me standing there.

And when he looked over his

I was standing there 

I once invented a time machine

It caused quite a blast. 

Now I go to sleep in the future,

And wake up in the past.

I was standing there watching

And saw him run from me.

And as he turned to look

I saw me running too

A long time ago, I had a feeling 

I would need to save the world. 

So I started building last Tuesday 

And finish the week before.

I ran along the crumbling stars 

And ran from a million me’s.

And when I saw them turn and gaze

I spotted a million more

There’s nothing left in the past 

Or so I will see

The only moments that stand stable now

Are the ones without ..