Marie

Wet n wild

Sitting in my whirlpool, i’ve never felt it drag me down too much. It doesn’t have an aggressiveness to it. It’s comfortable, alleviating from anything else i’ve ever known, not that i’ve known much else. It’s calming. From a distance I can see everyone else’s whirlpool. Some people’s whirlpool are heavy and agonizing. It doesn’t allow for other people to find comfort in it. It’s aggressive, it’s harsh. You can’t get in unless you were in it when it started. It pushes people out who try and calm it down. I see people who share their whirlpool’s with other people. It can be soft sometimes but most often it’s ugly, humiliating, and showcasing of the people in it. They never really mix well together. I feel bad for people who share their whirlpool. There’s hardly ever a time when two people share their whirlpool that either of them are happy. It’s depressing. It’s harsher than the one of the person’s who’s whirlpool is so aggressive. But even with all of this so many people do it. The idea of sharing a whirlpool is tempting I can admit but the action is never what anybody expects. They poison one another’s whirlpool and then leave. Those who can’t leave have kids in their mixed, poisonous, miserable, unsatisfied, deadly whirlpool. The kids are born into their own whirlpool, so similar to that of their parents. The children are born into chaos. Who will the kid have to rely on when it gets too aggressive for them to handle? It’s getting deeper. The kids are reaching their hand out begging for help. Where is their help? It’s getting deeper. Why does no one notice? It’s getting deeper. I don’t see them anymore. They’re drowning. They’ve drowned.