icantlivelikethisanymore.ifeelasthoughim strugglingacross
anancientriverofthefinestsand.icantfindp urchaseinit,itisjustmovingmealong,atitso wnpace,nevertiring,slowlymakingitswaytow ardtheendofmy
existence,notitsown,ohno,neveritsown.may beifistopstrugglingi'llrisetothe
surface.finallyfreeofthebehemothtidesflu idgrasp.ormaybei'lljustsinkslowlytothebo ttomofnothing,neveraccomplishinganything ihadplannedto...noicant
facethatpossibility,wontacceptthatfate.i mnotgoingtowaitforthislifetothrowmeafuck ingrope,orreachoutastronghand.notgoingto waitforthisgreedybitchofalifethatonlytak esandtakesandtakeswithoutthanks,alwaysre cievingwith outreturningthefavor...

therearesometreesgrowingonthebankofthisi nsatiableviscuosentity.i've
seenthem,ohyes,ihave.theyarefewandfarbet ween,but,they'rethere.some
ofthesetreesarewithered,andhard,unkind.b utsomeareyoungandstillchangewithseason. I stillcan'treach thebank, but thesetreesgive pieces ofthemselvesto me. It's not much, a littlehere...alittle there. But I am notwastingthese supple twigsandbitsof sap, andsinew. SLowly at first, now with more frequency, they are leaving these gifts to me, and i am slowly weaving my rope, a rope to pull myself up and out of this mess....

that i've made of my life.