“Shallow Water. No Diving.”
As I read the signs lining the wall of the pool at my complex, I couldn’t help but laugh at what a metaphor it felt like for life lately. At least where I live.
I sat outside feeling grateful for my outward-facing unit. Away from what I jokingly refer to as “the fishbowl” or the inner-facing units where everyone can practically see directly into each other’s windows. No thank you.
The entire courtyard felt overstimulating this afternoon. Competing music drifted down from different balconies, overlapping into one giant soundtrack of other people’s lives. One apartment blasting EDM. Another country music. Someone else watching reality TV too loudly.
Meanwhile, sombr’s “We Never Dated” played softly through my headphones like my own little emotional escape hatch from the chaos. I slid my green pen back into my bag and looked around at everyone lounging poolside on another gorgeous day in paradise.
Maybe this is the therapist in me, but I found myself wondering about all of them. Who are they really underneath the curated spaces, luxury cars, workout sets, and carefully constructed identities? Are they fulfilled? Lonely? Avoiding themselves? In love? Heartbroken?
I’ve realized I struggle with shallow environments. Not because I think I’m “better” than anyone, but because pretense exhausts me. Overt materialism for the sake of status feels hollow. Small talk feels like mental buffering.
I crave depth. Real conversations. Emotional honesty. The kind of connection where people stop performing long enough to actually be seen.
But maybe that’s difficult in environments designed around visibility. Everyone watching each other. Comparing. Curating. Broadcasting.
Shallow water. No diving.
-LC
Vibe with Me LC 