Drowning

I think I should've asked for help with this dissertation. It's too late now, but I was struggling for months and I knew it and I did nothing. I'm not so good at asking for help. I'd usually rather stay quiet and forget about the problem. I'd rather do it myself.

I went snorkelling in Australia at the Great Barrier Reef on the windiest day imagineable. The crew on the boat regretted not cancelling the trip as soon as we left, I could tell. They were all full of 'this is the windiest day I've ever seen' claims. The trip out was so rocky people were being sick everywhere (luckily I'd taken my tablets) and I fell over while trying to remove a tampon in the toilet. Eventually they stopped near this tiny island (their word, not mine. I'd say it's less of an island and more of a freak sand castle) in the middle of the ocean and took us out there in a dinghy (we couldn't go in the glass bottomed boat because the waves would smash the glass - I was pissed off). I regretted it instantly. The sand against my face (and I could even feel it through my wetsuit) stripped off the top layer of my skin. A small child who had previously been excitedly telling anyone who'd listen that she was going to find Nemo screamed hysterically from the pain of one million tiny particles of sand being blasted against her, and her mum had to shield her with her own body. We could hardly hear each other speak because the wind was so loud. 'Don't go any further out than mufflemufflemuffle. That's very important. OK!?'.

The currents were really strong but there were no fish so we kept swimming a little bit further out and then even more further out to look for this amazing beautiful breath-taking marine life we'd been told about. But no, the fish weren't as stupid as us and evidently they'd all fucked off to avoid the wind. I swear I didn't see a single fish the whole trip, except the ones they fed off the side of the boat (and a whale on the way back, which made up for things slightly). Eventually we decided we were out far enough. The water was getting a bit dark and the waves were too big and we were the furthest out, so we started to head back. Only the currents were really strong and swimming normally, we were getting pulled further out. Swimming with all my strength, I wasn't going anywhere. I was just staying in the one place. Not moving towards the island, not moving further out. The waves were too big and the water kept washing over the top of our snorkels. R and I kept up a running commentry of 'ohmygod we're going to die' 'ohfuck I'm getting swept out to sea' 'ohmyfuckinggod there are sharks out there' as we tried to swim back. I was genuinely scared. I hate the sea anyway, especially when I'm being in danger of being swept away never to be seen again. I've seen Open Water, you know. I know where it really happened. I seriously doubted that we could swim back to the shore.

The crew was circling the area the whole time in their dinghy. Every time they went by us they would call out 'Are you guys OK!?' and we're reply with a big smile 'Yes, thanks!'.

I'm glad we had to fight our way back by ourselves, rather than screaming to be rescued. But then, I wouldn't be saying that if we hadn't made it back.

I need to have this dissertation done on time. I need to. It needs to be good. I don't want to regret not crying for help.