50p

I dreamed of four-leaf clovers. They grew large and seemed so pervasive as to lose their magic, I wonder what that meant. Afforded a moment's reprieve, I tumble instantly down the rabbit hole of dark ideas. Depression washes over me like a tidal wave, I am tossed and drowned, pummeled against rocks and disoriented. Every time the same attempts at gasping for air and simultaneous resignation at the lack of control. I know this storm, have endured it before. Sometimes I think age will carry me above it, that the tempest will lessen and I will one day learn to float, but the instant I crash I am right back where I've always been. What use is there is in learning how to swim when the current will get you eventually? Every rolling wave etches its mark in your skin, in your bones, the lines grow deeper and deeper until it is unclear where you end and the water begins. Without these thrashing storms, I no longer am. 

I only wish I knew how to ride the surf once or twice. Make a life worth the agony of the fall.