The five-metre diving board was anything but a simple elevated platform in the SFU pool, especially in the summer times, when it emerged as the yardstick for courage and bravery for the average eight year old summer campers. And today was the day that I submitted myself to it.
A moment ago, my friend had catapulted himself and now I was pinned as I had sworn to him that if he would jump, I would take on the exact challenge. I had kept that in mind and now that he had fulfilled his part, two voices popped up in my head immediately. One voice constantly nagged at me, advising me that I would regret on my actions because I was terrified, and the other instructed me simply to just do it. Thinking rashly, I gave a sigh, a brave sigh, and then nodded and agreed.
I trotted myself over to the stairs with great fear lingering in my head.
People I knew glanced over, I was sure, but I did return their favors. I was tremendously nervous as I approached the stairs. I paced my steps slowly along with my breaths, I was trembling a bit, and my calves exhibited a weird weak and light feeling. As I continued my trek, my heart seemed to beat abruptly, speeding steadily. As I ascended pass the three-metre board, I sensed that my palms were becoming sweaty along with the sides of my fingers as I rubbed them now and then. As I walked on, I felt uneasy, weak, and nervous everywhere.
Finally, I had summited the peak. By now, my heart was thumping like a jackhammer. As I grasp the railings for security, I gaped at the height at which I was at and observed as the people looked smaller from up...