It’s cold and it’s a disgusting gray sleet outside. There are three other bodies in this room, none of which will respond to my whispered pleas. They continue to expel horrific gurgles while my mouth silently mouths a prayer. My stomach is in a different place than usual, it’s no longer nestled happily in my abdomen, full of greasy pizza, but is nearer to my mouth. My tongue is overwhelmed with the amount of saliva overwhelming it. I push the tight blankets off my legs and rush to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet I let the excess spit drip from my mouth and I cry. Something is wrong with my life.
I am alone. I am sitting in a small boat. The wood is warped and ancient. I am in a boat and it is on the ocean. The ocean is dark and quiet, eerily still. Something is about to happen, there is no wind, the water sits like glass around me, the sky is defeated with clouds full of anger and rain. There is not a soul in sight, no land, no sharks, nothing. Suddenly a wave rises in the distance, it is nearing me with a roaring hunger. Two oars lie on either side of me. I dip them in the water and row, but my arms are weak and my hands are numb, my grip doesn’t stay and I can’t push against this much of force. I look at the wave, right behind me now. It is the size of a house. There isn’t a way for me to escape, the wave is fast and it is full of energy, I am meek and I am going to drown.
I let it come.