My mother made me take swimming lessons every spring so that I would be able to enjoy my summer by the pool safely. There was always a fear inside of me because I knew that after some point, my feet would no longer be able to reach the bottom. No matter how much I resisted attending the lessons and getting in the water, my mother and my instructor always pushed me in. The dread never would leave though and one day the worst came true.
             My mom dropped me off at the YMCA as usual and made sure to watch me go inside. I went to the locker room, put my things away, grabbed my towel and began the dire walk towards the pool. The smell of the room where the pool was located reeked of chlorine and always made my stomach churn and the terror worse. I walked towards the side where my class met, kicked off my sandals and sat down anxiously. Not anxious for the beginning of class, but anxious for it to be over.
             As the kids started piling in excitedly awaiting their first splash, I wondered what horror I would be faced with that day. Then I overheard one child say, "hey, we get to jump off the diving board!" The tears began to soak the corners of my eyes and all the kids bouncing around became blurry to me. Was this true? Could I get out this terrible situation? Right then the teacher entered and I knew I was trapped.
             The teacher asked everyone to line up in back of the diving board ladder. All the other students eagerly took off to attempt to be the first to jump. I, on the other hand, lingered behind intentionally to get the very last spot. One by one they all sprung off and I knew my turn was rapidly approaching. My palms became sweaty, my mouth dried up and my knees began to rattle together uncontrollably. No matter what I did, the steps kept creeping closer and closer.
             Finally, there I was. I tried to run but the instructor caught hold of my arm and lifted me onto the board. I looked down and the
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