Thalassophobia.

A conundrum: What she fears that will end her life. The phobias creeping below her skin, the toxicity of a lonesome mind, what is it exactly?

Water usually eases her. Decked in a colorful number out in the sun, with a little picnic mat and a long time wasting away in merriment… almost enough to grow a mermaid tail.

Sparkling, clean water. Chlorine in the pool that appeared to have dyed the pool a lagoon blue. Being able to see where exactly the goggles fell onto the depth of the marvelously tiled floor.

She felt that the transparency of water soothes her, akin to humans. She was not a mind reader, or so she thought. But most people’s thoughts resonate like high end crystal glasses, clear as day, albeit some are deadly.

A fish that swims in circles along the sad parameters of a confining pool, drowning in the expressions of everyone she has met; is that sad? That is indeed a tragic tale, enough to activate animal rights advocates to initiate a protest.

But one who swims in the unknown depths, never knowing what’s behind you, what’s below you… and how far up to the surface, is that fear?

Thalassophobia.