She felt like she was drowning. All around her there was water. Freezing. Churning. Flowing. Pulling her and dragging her in multiple directions. She tried to fight against it. Tried hard to kick out with her legs, pull the surface towards her with her arms. But no matter how hard she tried she didn't move, not in the direction that she wanted. It was like the water was a womb and she was trapped inside, a helpless foetus, attached.

As the oxygen in her lungs ran out, and her chest tightened so that she felt like her torso was close to bursting, her mind relaxed. Death was inevitable, what was the use in fighting. Surely it was better to just submit, let go. What was going to happen was going to happen. She was in no position to affect it.

Memories crowded in. Happy ones. And sad ones. Her childhood stretched before her like a map, a map of where it all went wrong. She tried to find the point, the event that changed everything. Was it when her mother died, or when her father finally went away? She stared at the images and tried to focus. But her vision blurred and she was instead transported back to the present, an orphan adrift in the ocean, alone and friendless.

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becsatherton (joined over 14 years ago)
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I have always loved art and drawing has been an important part of my life ever since I can remember. Having creative parents provided me with the right genes and also meant that my naive dabblings were given plenty of encouragement. Growing up, our kitchen walls were lined with huge pinboards which displayed my work. I guess you could say that this was my first exhibition, my audience consisting of family and friends. To date – apart from school and university, where there was always a termly show – it remains the only one. Life interfered with other priorities and stole away my earlier confidence.
Since graduating, I have been a web designer, a graphic designer, a magazine editor, an art director, a copy writer, a literary consultant, a poet, an aspiring novelist, and many other less inspiring things. I have also founded a literary arts magazine called Inside Out, which published two issues before the recession hit.
For the last year, I have been hard at work writing and drawing and would now call myself a writer, poet, artist and illustrator. I use these mediums as ways to better understand myself and find them helpful in exploring and resolving personal problems. This was the focus of Inside Out, which promoted creativity for personal development and emotional well-being. One day I hope to qualify as a creative therapist, offering workshops and retreats and teaching this valuable skill to other individuals.

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