Flutter Kicking with the Elderly

Maybe drowning wouldn't be so bad.

I stare into the water at my feet,  fast flutter kicking amongst the rippling skin and flapping jowls of the  elderly that surround me. Everyone here has to be at least 50 years older than me, minus the two buoy-like, 30 something obese women wallowing like two useless bobbers in the corner. They haven't done anything but splash a bit, grunt, and chitter about lasagna recipes, so they don't count anyway. Not that I'm complaining, water aerobics is probably the one class at the Y where I actually feel more attractive and skinnier than everyone else. This is probably due to the fact that everyone else has a severe case of retinal cataracts and thinks I'm wearing water wings instead of a nice cushion of fat around my arms.

This is also why drowning would be plausible. Everyone is blinded by oldness except for the hot life guard, who most likely assumes I'm autistic, since I flop around with water barbells amongst old people instead of bending into fuckable positions in hot yoga pants like every other 22 year old here.
No one would even notice.  I could just hold my breath and sink to the bottom, where I'd most likely get mistaken for a deflated beach ball or pool vacuum, and  could peacefully fill my lungs with chemicals and urine residue.

But no.
 I enjoy living too much.
 Though the thought did flash through my mind for a brief second.

After calling off my engagement two days ago, my mind has been on the brink of insanity. More so than usual. My heart and mind have been waging an epic battle in my head over what is the right decision. Once in awhile my gut instinct pops in for a visit as well, usually dressed as a hot warrior goddess that slashes my heart and says "Run!!!"

I don't know what to do and I know what to do all at the same time. I love my fiance with all my heart, I do, but chatting online with slutty, cleavage clad whores while he is deployed and lying about it does not make me feel like signing away my life to him. I was at that comfortable point with him, where we shit with the door open and never had sex anymore (much to my dismay). I always had this gut feeling that something might be a little off, but my innocence worked fast to cover those thoughts up with stupid giddy love crap.

I didn't want to end it, but in a brash decision of hurt feelings and anger, I did.
Worst of all, he is still deployed, I have all of his shit, and we cant talk in person. So no matter what, we have to wait a few weeks before we can talk things out and finalize everything.
Now the alone feeling sets in.

Even the squirrels remind me of my luck. They sat in the trees by my doctor's office and bitched at me as I walked into the building today. This one in particular stared at me with his stupid little beady squirrel eyes, and I swear his chutters sounded exactly like "you're always going to be alone chutter chutter chutter. Chut chutter you will die an old maid chutter chutter chutter. Sucks to suck chutter chut chutter."
I almost yelled back at him to get his furry ass out of the tree and find me a man with enough nuts to be honest and trustworthy, but then felt as though that might be considered socially inappropriate and wouldn't help my whole "being alone" case.

So, unfortunately, I need to get used to this whole "being alone" phenomenon. So it looks as though I will be spending a lot of time in water with the elderly. It can only get better from here, right?