text: I was born with an anchor in my chest. It was something that I didn’t really notice right away. It was just something that was a small annoyance always pulling me down. I thought it was something everyone had. As I grew older it became heavier. It became harder to carry. One week I was so tired, I couldn’t get out of bed. My mother took me to the doctor. “Yes, the problem is that you have an anchor,” he said and gave me some pills to help me carry it. The pills helped. Sometimes I even forgot that the anchor was there, but it also felt like I was forgetting a piece of me. I kept taking the pills, though. You see, carrying an anchor all the time was exhausting. Then I met a boy. I liked him. He was me and more. I found out early on that he had an anchor as well, but life had given him his. He took me out to sea. He was so strong. His anchor was much larger than mine. He didn’t need the pills to carry his. I felt guilt. Why was I taking pills when he carried his anchor so much easier without? He said I couldn’t fully be me unless I carried my anchor like a badge of honor. I threw my pills into the water. I felt the most like myself in years. It was exhilarating. He embraced it. Then I realized my anchor had grown over time. It was much heavier than I remembered. I struggled with it. Then he did with his. I tried to carry both our anchors, but it was impossible. It drug us down. Down. Down. Down. I had to let go. His anchor was too heavy. He slowly sank, then disappeared. What’s funny is that he was gone, but part of his anchor stayed with me. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get rid of it. Part of me didn’t want to. I deserved it. I became exhausted and started to sink. It became easier not to fight. Then I saw a boat. A net fell over the side and wrapped around me. I felt myself rising. Soon I was on the boat and there sat my mother, friends, and doctor. They began chipping away at my anchor. They gave me pills. I was so exhausted that I let them. Slowly my anchor became lighter. I felt relief. I was able to think of things other than all the weight I had been carrying. I realized I was more than just my anchor. I was grateful. My anchor is still there there. Some days it’s heavier than others, but I know that there are others who are willing to help me carry it. I have my own boat now and cast my net out, hoping to find others who are being weighed down. I chip away at their anchors and bring them to shore. I am who I am, because I was born with an anchor in my chest.