Writing is like diving. You get to escape into depths unknown. 

When I was 21, I did a cross country trip. On the last leg of our trip along the west coast, I hiked with friends in Oregon and camped by Klamath Falls. I remember there was a lake that was still icy cold in the summertime. It was really hot and humid out so I decided to jump in and swim.

The water changed color the deeper I went. I held my breath the whole while. The water was every possible shade of blue - light glacial white, sea, slate gray, dark navy blue, azure and a bright, almost turquoise blue.

I swam past frozen fish amazed by their stillness and the deeper my dive, the more the water changed color. I was around forty feet below when suddenly a little silver fish darted below me. It was a flash of shimmering light. I followed the little fish and came upon a massive rock with large plants around it. The fish had disappeared however. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pressure in my chest. I thought my chest was going to explode. I couldn't hold my breath any longer so I came up to the surface, rushing as fast as I could.

When my head emerged, my friends clapped and one yelled, "There she is!" The sunlight was so bright, illuminating the water, that my friends only appeared to be silhouettes. I still felt like I was far away.

But I was also excited by what I had experienced and my lung capacity. The human body is such a beautiful thing. It's like this machine at your will that you can shape.