icantlivelikethisanymore.ifeelasthoughimstrugglingacross
anancientriverofthefinestsand.icantfindpurchaseinit,itisjustmovingmealong,atitsownpace,nevertiring,slowlymakingitswaytowardtheendofmy
existence,notitsown,ohno,neveritsown.maybeifistopstrugglingi'llrisetothe
surface.finallyfreeofthebehemothtidesfluidgrasp.ormaybei'lljustsinkslowlytothebottomofnothing,neveraccomplishinganythingihadplannedto...noicant
facethatpossibility,wontacceptthatfate.imnotgoingtowaitforthislifetothrowmeafuckingrope,orreachoutastronghand.notgoingtowaitforthisgreedybitchofalifethatonlytakesandtakesandtakeswithoutthanks,alwaysrecievingwith outreturningthefavor...

therearesometreesgrowingonthebankofthisinsatiableviscuosentity.i've
seenthem,ohyes,ihave.theyarefewandfarbetween,but,they'rethere.some
ofthesetreesarewithered,andhard,unkind.butsomeareyoungandstillchangewithseason.  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.