I plunge under the water. I launched myself into the water, and now I'm in the water. I can breath fine, so I breath. I swim under the water, breathing the water in, letting fresh, cold, ice cold water fill my lungs. I let the water surround me. I let it embrace me, and I embrace it. I float through the water. Then I go like a rocket through the water. I just rocket through the water. I kick my legs. A jet of water pushes me forward, pushes me fast through the water. I I can't heard a thing. I only hear my heart beat, the rain above tap gently on the water's surface. I want to stay down in the water forever. I can if I want to. I'm not a mermaid, but I can breath under the water anyways. I feel excited under the water, but sluggish on land. I consider living under the water, never coming up. But I can't. I need to stay on land. I can't remember why while I'm in the water, but I can remember the reason while on land. The reason is unknown to me right now, but it won't be when I go on land. I feel like a mermaid right now. I'm not through. I have no tail. I have two legs, legs that touch the sand at the bottom of the water when I go deep enough into the water. My hair isn't red, but I feel like Ariel, Ariel the Little Mermaid. My jet black hair floats around me. The sharp darkness of my hair is soften by the water. The water makes my hair float, makes it look light and pretty, and not harsh. On land it looks messy and severe and doesn't look beautiful like it does now. I close my eyes and fall asleep, letting myself sleep in the soft muddy sand of the bottom of the water.